Lion Head Mesa i keep digging myself down deeper

A miserable, dreadful heatwave. But one she would soldier through.
Her duties for the afternoon had been done — a morning prayer to Allah Osiris, the starting of a shrine for Sekhmet near the river's bank where Selena lay. A spar in the training grounds, plenty of water and meat. And now, perhaps a visit to the wellspring.
Along the ridgeways and sandstone paths, the blocks of light were blinding, the heat sweltering; a narrowness to her eyes with the sting of mid-July. Mind astir with thousands of thoughts, ones she would have to drown later with bitter berries.
Something brushes against her forearm, a tickle that brings a lift to the leg and a surprised blink. Swiveling her head to look back, she searches for what it was —
She'd seen this woman before. Never had they spoken, but she knew that face; she knew the lavender bloom of her slender back, now ribbed with a showing spine and thinned hips. A plethora of emotions, flashbacks to many, many moons ago when she'd seen this silhouette flutter about the Lake.
She thought she knew her name, too. Nazli?