Two Eyes Cenote ninety-third

Freedom, walk from this place, not sent away, cold and cruel one moment, a doctor and patient, crying next and standing beside. Contradictions swirled in the half-breed's mind like a tempest, each thought clashing violently with the next. Senmut’s words fluttered through the storm, too complex to grasp with a brain that felt sluggish and muddled, and a body so weak and achy that even the simple act of holding its head upright to meet the priest's gaze caused near unbearable strain.

Where would it go if not here? The thought was fleeting, only the ghost of an idea that drifted aimlessly above the churning waters of its mind. Would Eset even allow it to walk free? A dirty paw rubbed over bloodshot eyes, trying to clear the haze and comprehend what otherwise would have been a simple concept for the usually insightful beast—trying to think, to understand, but it could only draw a blank.

You said you wanted to speak. How have you been? The words slipped out, desperate for distraction, seeking refuge in simpler matters. Its voice was strained, and the question more an automatic reflex than conversational curiosity, How is Legend?

There was a pause, a hesitation, and then more quietly, almost as if afraid of the answer— Is she angry with me?