Luneshale Pass pantano

she stills, long enough to listen. could she not grant him his final words? she looks to her husband, asking he not squeeze the life from him with a gentled look despite the anger beneath the still surface. ah, and she understood these words—each of them. she had been taught his language among many others, for politics—as of yet, it had not proven too useful… and though she thrilled to know what it was he said in the beginning, that did not last very long. 
is that what he thought? well, let him die with his convictions. it would be his only gift from her—more than he had even given those of her fold. as he spat at her, she wiped the filth from her furs and smeared it back upon him with a blended look of horror and shock. he did not know her, and he never would. but he, whether she liked it or not, was her second teacher in the art of warfares cruelty. she was not a fighter, not really—but for her children, for her own country, she would be. this man started something, and Toula would see it finished—with him, first. 
she was quick, calling upon Sekhmet for strength as she delivered her blow. and thank the Gods it landed true. she watched the life fade from his gaze and only when the brightness of life was gone from those already dull eyes did she say to him, knowing he would hear it as his heart was taken in the world away from here and weighed, dejad que vengan. cuando lleguen vuestros tres, serán recibidos por seis. es una pena que no volváis a veros, porque adonde vais todos no queda nada. not even themselves, their very selves and their souls devoured by Ammit. anger, anger for what he and his had done. 
her lips were red with his blood, and now she looked upon the scene knowing there was no time to be wasted, Rashepses surging ahead, but still she lingered, looking back down. looking back down and seeing a wolf there, awful and terrible thing no more—just a body, just a terrible number. who was he, really? she took a paw to his gaze and swept the lid down so that it looked as though he were only asleep. the blood that continued to flow betrayed the reality that then, she stepped away from. Rashepses was at her side. she watched the retreating forms, and said to Medusa, let them retreat, an unspoken command in there—follow from a distance. she herself now leaned against Rashepses—only he would feel and know her breaths did not come evenly. to the public she presented well as Pharaoh, moving to lead the way back. 
she paused to ask Rashepses, take him with us. when Khusobek arose, she would have him see how he had not fought for naught. she would tell him… well, that must wait, even the thought—until he awoke. 
her anger was gone. nothing was left in its wake but for exhaustion, and still she marched proudly on. she must, she must!