calling

“It’s not that simple,” her own reply comes quickly, not a defense she had readied but a force she felt all too keenly, “nothing in this world is.” She pulls back, compels her chin higher, looking as levelly as she could into the girl’s frown.

Racharra didn’t understand. Because she was right- the hebsut hadn’t been honest with her. If she wanted to now, she would detail out the vile events of her life before Akashingo. How her own mother had been abandoned to molder in the cruel grasp of her master. How Eset was indeed half of that evil.

Then- maybe she would see what Muat-riya meant to her, why it was so important.

She flicks her glazing eyes down to their mirrored feet upon the limestone, fighting an impulse to turn into herself. Instead, she covers Racharra’s dark paw with her own- a light touch. Soft. But let it speak for her in the ways she could not, and let the girl feel from it the coywolf's solemn attempts to understand. 

“You should be there,” she whispers in kind, "I pray, some day, they will be returned to you, Racharra."