Two Eyes Cenote Aimless direction bound through

“It is nothing I wish to discuss.” Not to relive it. Not here. Not now.

A burst of pain, like soreness coats her throat. She did not feel she had to veil that part of herself from Legend that pulsed with telltale cold; the little bud that had been her’s now buried in a thousand forgotten fragments far from this place. But the days had passed, decisions were made and acted upon, and when all was said and done the world had not much altered save for the hebsut’s own grief.

You were right, she thinks grievously. You had wanted to spare me from future anguish, and I did not listen.

Some inward shame touches the woman’s face, a guilty look that makes Eset want to pull her close and murmur words of comfort. “You look healthy,” her eyes are on the silken profile, taking in her new strength, “and a yaret now, I hear.” Her mouth stretches into a pleasing smile, wondering what new responsibilities charge Akashingo’s raven.

The sudden reveal is not so foul as it is overwhelming. Legend unbars the sachet and at once the coy is sent sputtering back with a cough. A gift from a strange man– immediately her mind jumps to Herod and poison and warily she leans in to inspect the patch of herbs, taking every care not to touch them.

“A gift for who?” Grave speculation is in her eyes as she tests the air.