Golden Glade first dawn

as she steps back the man comes forth; drawing from the folds of pelt a small thing atoztli could not see the true nature of until his form receded. 

the skull gleams in the half-light as if whetted by blood. 

her gaze travels to mictec, then back to the man in approval. 

the shrine now housed three great totems of purpose — each one a powerful signal of their own devotion.

her eyes close as mictec’s confident voice rises over them; to her own patron god she offers an additional prayer, remaining perfectly still even as mictec’s invocation concluded.