Lion Head Mesa butterflies

She adopts the cool hubris of her father, crossing her paws in wait below a perfunctory grin. Such was the role of a living goddess, to couple the people of Akashingo with their deities. The little wolfling found some higher aplomb in the worshipful presence of this good servant.

“Yes,” she answers, leaping to her feet and then in the way of an excited pup asks, “may I help?”

Her golden tail whisks. Divine being one moment, child in the next. At two months of age, Neith still straddled the dividing lines of both worlds. She blushes beneath Charmion’s praise, too young yet to understand why his own conflicting emotions danced in the shimmer of green eyes.