Lion Head Mesa Anemone

It was quite apparent in those early days how, after a rush of pride, the role of fatherhood for Rashepses was minor. It was Pharaoh’s body from which they nursed, her energy which they drained. Semer-wati kept them bathed and warmed, but it was always Toula’s intimate observations which drew deep feelings of ponderous mirth from the father.

His children were beautiful, each one had a luminous quality. Even in the small hours, their personalities were fiercely apparent. Rashepses delighted in resting a head upon his wife’s belly as he cradled her spine to his chest, and listening to the mother talk of their cubs. Leaders and warriors, lovers and prophets, were their brood.

“We shall begin now,” a kiss, lavished to her ribs, verged on passionate.

But it was the tiniest pair of lapis eyes which hushed him, and the following four pairs which engendered a laugh in his chest.

“Harek, Perfect Ones!” He reached a paw to stroke the head upon his golden prince as he explored his sister’s side, and admired his nightling pair’s embrace.

“Look, how they all love each other,” the man crooned to his wife.