Lion Head Mesa suviŋñiq

Agakiggruk, said the boy.

She watched on high stones where the mesa towered and the red priest moved. She was tossed upon her back, flipping rocks into the air and batting her paws at pretty things she couldn't see. Glimmers of light in a dead burned sky and the imp rolled and rolled. Oh, she had been gone often, hadn't she? Between the space of travel, move. Move. Move. Move. Rolled and turned, twisted and moved, a permanent hunger for desire. Akashingo had been under fire.

She thrived off of it. Off of the thrumming of her heart and the sickening twist in her belly. Yet she only watched. Never engaged. Never involved. A little bird on a branch.

Another crawled to them with eyes that dragged to the earths pits.

Then, she flipped and turned and rolled. She rolled all the way to the edge, until she fell off and slid down the slope of that thin ledge, sliding down upon her side until she rose upon her feet at the end. A dead, alive smile lazily on her face. A code embedded in her that played endlessly. 

The sides of the two men were invaded by the cross of her shadow touching theirs. Agakiggruk. Agakiggruk. And in that pass, she touched eyes to Senmut with a fire that would devour him. 

One that was quickly taken away, and her eyes were then forward. Her path was not for them. She left them.

Taken again to the call of Ra's wrath to eat her. 

Cameo unless acknowledged!