Lion Head Mesa 羽毛 gaichū

Sabah or Nephele.

Nephele or Sabah.

A new name didn’t help Nephele’s ongoing identity crisis much. It probably made it worse by any measure of the imagination. Sabah was becoming a skin she knew too well, and it made her itch inside. Because how did she know Sabah more than she knew Nephele? Who was she really?

Nephele groaned. Ew, thinking. She moved slowly, trying to avoid going so fast that her muscles burned. She knew her limits when it came to training now, she wasn’t doing that much ever again. Nope. Never.

List of things she wasn’t doing: that, going north to those woods, telling anyone who she was. Which brought her back around to pondering who the hell Sabah was. Who Nephele was. It didn’t help that her nightmares dragged back Pidáo into everything. The monochrome woman shook her head rapidly, raising her gaze to peer across the Mesa.

Oh hey, there was Satsu. She gave a little bark of greeting, a friendly wave of a tail. It was always nice to appeal to the royals.