Two Eyes Cenote Typhlopidae

shuffling past the threshold that marked her lean room, qiao eased her old bones into the luxurious warmth of fawnsilk. these rubes did something right — they arranged comfort into every facet of daily living. she would miss being so spoiled. 

tomorrow; tomorrow she will find the surviving boy and inform him that now, his future had only two paths. and he must choose which fork to travel. 

that twilight world of deep sleep slipped over her, exhaustion making its advancement rapid — up until a bellow shook the tranquility of her room. 

she sat up stiffly, the luxurious peltskins tenting around her age-ravaged body. could she not sleep? so confident was she that there had been no witnesses, so calloused in her experience with such things that she does not even consider eset is here on the ritual’s behalf. 

what? her tone snippety and irritated, the priestess‘ olive eyes peer with annoyance around the red arm of her door frame.