Two Eyes Cenote marble & tooth

The jodai’s call rent the air and she fled the halls to him, chest writhing in worry. Seeing him, she felt her mouth go dry.

Khusobek overworked himself. Her lips part to say as much, to implore that he rest, but shut as briskly as the thought occurs. A father’s pain she could not know, and yet there was no greater she could imagine.

“Come here,” the hebsut whispers, directing him to lay at the edge of the cenote where she gathered a pawful of laurels, dabbing them into the cool water as they awaited Meseba’s arrival. Only then did she perceive the strain in his gait, but forced the concern from off her lips, if not her face.

As gently as she can manage, Eset begins to sooth her hand over the side of Khusobek’s face, using leaves to clear the grit from the deeper lacerations.

“How is she?”