Two Eyes Cenote adamantium

Neither one of them spoke again until they were quite a ways outside of Muat-riya. Talisman had half a mind to scurry away into the scrub land. The dejected yearling needed to find someplace quiet to lick his wounds. It was hardly his pride that needed tending. He felt as though he’d somehow failed his ancestors, the zafra, and their legacy of humility and vassalage.

Eset halted and Talis did too, stomach rolling. He realized this was the point where they’d part ways and he turned without looking at her. He didn’t run, though he had every intention of hastily skulking away. He made it three-and-a-half steps before her voice stopped him.

His face turned back toward her, almost despite himself. Yes! he wanted to shout at her when she asked a question, though the Hebsut didn’t let him get a word in edgewise. She answered it for him. Talis listened, for he knew he had a lot to learn, but he felt anger boiling in the pit of his stomach.

You’re the one who doesn’t understand, the yearling said, quiet but emphatic. You don’t know me. You didn’t even bother asking me about myself. Well, I’m the descendant of a slave and I know what a noble calling it can be, despite what you think.

His ears slicked back to his skull as Talisman realized he’d spoken out of turn. Yet he could not bring himself to apologize for speaking up for himself. None of it mattered now anyhow. Eset meant to be his white knight and Talis knew arguing would get him nowhere. The bottom line was he would not find a place in Muat-riya.

Without another word, Talis turned to walk off into the desert.