Lion Head Mesa meadowlands

As her fellahin departs, Merneith folds a paw over the other, hands together in perfect composure. Well, and truly hopeful for the first time in the wake of mother and father’s departure.

She retreats to bed, sprawling her golden limbs and pulling the isabelline lynx pelt across her shoulders; the one invoked with the blessings of the Goddess Neith and which invariably brought Charmion to mind. A smile bests her lips.

Threads of a future were patterning together.