Two Eyes Cenote Company is Coming

Preened to what he assumed was satisfaction, Rooke is once again whisked away to helplessly pad after Machi. Swiftly guided through the winding halls of Muat-Riya, Rooke's mind spun with each twist and turn through the dark tunnels. The moment he began to revise his mental map, he is introduced to a broad chamber. The absence of the narrow cavern hallways eerily prickled along his pelt. With each pin prick came a drop of dread. It welled from his core, anchored his feet to the floor, and turned to stone in his throat.

Ordered to wait there until it is time to dine, Rooke watched silently as his one lifeline drifted out of reach. The room weighed heavier upon him when left to face it alone. There was a flurry of movement in the shadows along the wall. His eyes adjusted to identify coyotes bustling about. Each moved adeptly within the current he himself was trapped in.

He can distantly hear a catastrophe in the making in the direction Machiavelli left in. Heart in his throat, Rooke's eyes turned to his own feet. The only constant in the room. His feet against the floor.

Someone made a sound at him. He could not hear it beyond the water in his ears, but it was a question wasn't it? When the fellahin, nameless to him, asked again he shook his head with a smile. No, no. He did not need anything. Yes, he was quite alright. Don't worry. Don't look. He was quite alright. Sitting there—all alone—with nothing. Not even his one friend.

When the fellahin moves off to continue buzzing around this desert beehive Rooke attempts to clear his throat and set back his shoulders. He could hear his family scold his poor manners.

Sit up straight! All of your paws flat on the floor, and—don't you dare forget to tuck your tail in, now!

When Machi returned to the dining hall to begin plating the table, he would find Rooke sitting there in silence. His outward appearance statuesque. Only Rooke's eyes moved within his stony features to watch as the most important meal in his short life is served.