Two Eyes Cenote we can't fall any further if we can't feel ordinairy love

there is a room, and it is not so different from the clinical room tavina had once dressed qiao’s skull in. she passed her gaze along the stone walls, waiting for the energy to settle. khusobek’s presence lingered, though he mentioned a physician was away. qiao hoped this physician did not mind a stranger rifling though her stores.

eset, at some point, had woken up. the would-be mother, her vessel hollow and energies reduced to a husk, will not lift her eyes from the floor.

once — so long ago to think of it turned her thoughts to ash — there had been a small coywolf wrapped in a garland of her own blood, holding the bodies of three perfectly still souls. the only audience the settling gloom around her. qiao quickly ushered the memory away. 

 relieved to see senmut, qiao tilted her ear to his single utterance. a quirk of her muzzle given as akavir responded.

she moved round the table, clicking her tongue to shoo away the men that hovered like black flies on meat. moss, fennel, goldenrod, and gaultheria. she called to no one in particular to retrieve, placing a paw upon eset’s haunch to draw her attention. you have lost much blood, dear. we will treat the external first — but you will need to rest. how is your pain?