The Bracken Woods MAKONO.

Devourer of Fate;

a girl in scarlet, the first time his eyes fell upon her. wrought in the blood of dead men and scattering her own across the battlefield like some sacred offering to every war-god whose hungry eyes followed her steps. who could ever look away from her? who could ever bear it, if not the gods themselves? and he was but a man — no — a moth caught by the glimmer of the sun.

Blessed by the Red Land;

a woman in ivory, when he'd laid her upon a bed of wildflowers to see her wounds to scars and her eyes to flames. whispered prayers in the names of all the gods of healing, a song to reach every corner of the earth. he'd thought her beautiful then. how foolish. how ignorant. how simple.

She Who Is Favoured by Ma'at;

a queen in gold, rising on fiery wings; not beauty in her but divinity. a living god.

@Makono.

every second he breathed her name, felt it in his veins and his bones and that hollow place where a soul might once have made its home. it was only her, now. his eyes were light upon her, his smile filled with mischief. think fast! he tossed the scavenged leg of a doe to her, his throw spiraling to the left when his shoulder twinged where he'd taken teeth to his flesh. worth it, of course.

anything for her.

obviously no need to match length

she had thought she would die.

in that moment she had cataloged every face, every influence. she had killed others in simpler, cleaner ways. she had been nothing more than a girl and hardly still was! there was so much life still not lived — oh but she had killed her father not much older than she had, had she? ripped the rest of his life from his grasp of madness. the thought had filled her with such a ripping split of irony that she had laid there and laughed!

she had decided she was okay. that there might be peace awaiting her. or perhaps scorned parents! what did it matter? she had not feared death. not when fevers rode through her veins or when she could not tell her own blood from others.

she had whispered to kairos that if she did die, she needed to be brought home. so that toula may see her and have no mystery, so that she may lay alongside mother and father. so that her soul could know a peace even if angered spirits await her on the other side.

perhaps qiao would have use for her bones.

---

she had lived and it was brilliant.

when things settled, both with her and the warring fields, she had told kairos he must come with her. their work was done there but other places needed them. she was still as greedy as she had been in younger days too. he had spilled his blood alongside her own and in that way they were connected forever.

she would sooner end him herself than see him go alone.

makono was not also oblivious to the fact that she needed bodies now. for herself, for any kind of future. the first task was to even make it to warm lands again! half-blind now but stronger for it, perhaps. lessons learned and worn openly for the world.

a doe leg flying her way was a reminder of his presence.

i should have your head for throwing food! but her voice was warm and sounded near drunken. only there was no wine in her blood. it was simply the radiance of being alive, of having survived. somehow it had made her hungrier for the battles again.

eat, she instructed him a bit firmer now. i want to travel through the night. already she attempted to see what she was able to, to conjure a map in her mind so that she might continue to guide them.

take it, then, and i'll grow two more! he laughed, but already kairos was drifting closer to heed her command. he tore a long strip of flesh from the leg and whipped it through the air til it wrapped round his muzzle. he grinned at her.

jewelry, kairos pronounced. for the eyes of your court. they'll be so impressed with me, i'm sure! oh, he knew what he was to wolves like them: a brute. a simple mercenary. worth only enough respect to complete the transaction.

a fitting way to present himself, then.

and two more mouths for you to quip with.

her features were twisted with a smile that was once composed and polite. now, between scarring and a more feral edge, it seemed to have become a pointed thing. a dagger unsheathed beneath her royal cloaks.

kairos would know it was a good look, unlike the smiles she used to wear.

cover yourself in furs and meats. then they will adore you — or devour you.

her teeth reached for his meal-wrapped muzzle, as if she meant to give a demonstration of what awaited.