Two Eyes Cenote Leaf-nosed

One I did not make knowingly.

Another silent protest, added to the mass of all things unspoken.

Her pulse slows. Blackened eyes ferry up and over the coyote, tracing hard lines and years of history spelled out upon a face that had known much work.

How can she keep so indifferent? Is that what it means to become a witch? To become unbreakable?

“Qiao. It is your name, isn’t it?" She withers. "Why would I become a witch, Qiao? Magic is just that,” and if Eset had ever once dreamed of realities spun by the radiance of heka, she no longer did.

“Not real.”