Lion Head Mesa [wp] ferrous

Akashingo, it seemed, was under the reigns of hellfire. She'd heard word from the new fellahin of Tuna's plight, and whispers of something about the Queen.
Needless to say, rest did not come easy. But apparently nor did movement. She'd already banged her head on the arch of a walkway, nearly tripped over herself so many times, even as she now headed for the river's edge. A bundle of flowers, twigs and ferns is held gently within her jaws — one of which, a mysterious blue lotus she'd found in a woven bowl at her bedside. She knew not where that had come from; Akhtar, maybe? Tuna? The Queen herself? Surely not Khusobek. Senmut... no. Nazli, even more emphasis on the no. Maybe — no, it couldn't be.
She meant to ask around after she delivered her little bundle to Selena's gravesite. That was where she kept everything, for she was there more often than not, as of late.

But the serenity of the walk along the river's bank is broken. Near the lake, a shrill humming sound; the mob of insects hanging overhead, lying in wait; and in a heap in a shallow pool is one of Akashingo's sesh. They'd never yet spoken, but apparently, they would now.
The bundle is placed neatly within the protection of a head of sagebrush, and curiously, Zaahira makes her approach. Are you alright? Comes her tentative voice, eyes wide as she feebly backs away from the yellow-striped insects; oh, dear, she didn't like that. Not at all!
A cold prickle of fear, and in said fear's wake, she is soon tumbling over rather melodramatically to her side. A misstep. Because of course.
Oh, Gods, have mercy.