Luneshale Pass season of the witch

Meat split between her canines as her jaws nipped and crushed. Her tongue was greedy for food, eyes fixated in a way that almost stole her away from Zaahira. An energetic shiver vibrated across her tail, before it tightly curled and her elbows pushed her towards the meal.

In a quick glance, her eyes locked to Zaahira.

"Princes?"

With the food pressed against the edges of her lips, the audible sound of her molars crushing and grinding it down had begun. Ahead of her, she stared, empty headed in nature with no immediate response.

Did she hear her?

"Yes! I do not know of Thutmose. Princes stay.." Dig, dig, grind, grind, and through bone, her teeth pierced through. Shard by shard, she ate with soft, tender flesh. "Isolated. Away from one another. The air is thick. You feel it?" Not even a look to Zaahira this time; only her owlish eyes ahead. 

"Prince Rashepses feeds me. His mind thinks- you see it? Kind. Prince Senmut- Humble. Generous to me. But, to trifle with the name of his land sparks fire akin to nothing. You see it." No question. "Rashepses' voice- loud. Senmuts- reserved. I see scorching embers in their future, should they cross. Rashepses' orchestra, and Senmuts hymn. Embers. You see it? Thutmose.." Her head tilted. Had she seen him? She did not continue farther with him, because..
She did not know.