Lion Head Mesa Times being what they are

Shaken and trembling, not for thirst or hunger or fatigue but rapture!

Disbelief. A dry gasp. “Hathor.”

The last of her tears will well as the goddess descends and she proffers all of herself. Her golden light strikes, jade-eyes glinting in tandem with the brightest stars, the mesa burns whitely behind her. Blood flows again under molten skin.

She shifts to discard weakness, to give her own spirit to the Goddess of sun, arms opened beneath the hardened desert days, to rise up with the living.

“ Hekenu. Yes,” she will follow her savior.