Lion Head Mesa Viper

“How cruel,” she breathes, and so young to know such pain. Again Tavina’s face flushes in her mind. Another loss, another foregone lover. Is this the fate that awaits the women of Akashingo? Unbidden, she clutches what she can of Zaahira, her paw reaching across the bowl of wine to hold her forearm.

Too much passes over the warrior, but grief and shame clearly. Women will not lie with each other in her native land, though such a concept is not taboo for Eset, and not, she imagines, for the realm of Akashingo either. And perhaps Zaahira will know this too, in the way she stays close; a consolation of tender strokes not withheld.

The warrior takes Osiris as her patron god. He will care for her lover, she believes, until the two are reunited in the great field of reeds beyond this mortal world. This is a vision Eset will take to her prayer, to keep the Mazoi in her devotion with the Gods.

“I come to listen, my Lady,” she consoles, “to ensure you are well provided here. To please. Not just as a fellahin- as a friend.” Her eyes search the woman's.

"You honor your lover-not only in your worship, but in your trade. You see nothing like that will happen again."

The fellahin thinks, if she had been Zaahira's lover, she would be quite proud of that.