Lion Head Mesa butterflies

“A bird!” The girl’s eyes flare, tail ticking with excitable beats, “An osprey's talons for Neith’s altar! As sky Goddess, she would like that most of all, don’t you agree, Charmion? Come, we will fetch my lynx cloak first!"

Pretenses of womanhood are all but abandoned now, the girl cub skips merrily in weightless joy, beckoning the coyote man to follow through the atrium towards the royal quarters where she and her family dwelled.

They round a bend and enter a painted scarlet chamber fitted with all manner of luxurious belongings. “This is my room,” she tells him, thinking how later she might show Charmion her favorite reliefs. But no time now! She draws towards a low stone slab, upon which are elegantly presented numerous furs from an excess of worldly regions. On top is the newest gift; a gleaming liver-colored lynx pelt with isabelline spotting.

Many preyskin had been gifted to the princess, and she admired them all, but this particular pelt was a present from momma and daddy following her naming ceremony, and so it was perhaps the most meaningful to her.

“This one,” the amiirad indicates to Charmion, running a tiny pale paw over the rosettes. It was especially precious, and she wanted to honor her Goddess with it.