Two Eyes Cenote Dear gravity, you held me down in this starless city

Minuet Medeiros's escape from the chaos of her father's betrayal was marked by a constant feeling of sickness. It churned in her belly and worked at her bloodstream, and any concept of normalcy that she might have previously known had become so foreign.
She did not know who she was. Mother, father, sister; all no more than faces in the rubble of a dirty, smashed glass frame. And the Sea—
She arrived a girl, and left a woman; and right now, she did not feel quite like either one.
Her paws grace the silt, pads burning with the heat of it, and she squints through the spitting haze of the desert. A vulture glides above her, and she watches it with a lash of her tongue from between her teeth; eyes, ever piercing.
And all the while, she was completely unaware of where she was.