Two Eyes Cenote oh, anytime.

there was the matter of what to do with @Riot. 

well-rested, recovered from the blood-cost of her spell, qiao wiped the last of sleep from her eyes and considered the boy’s future. 

she sensed the spell had worked; old aches and pains seemed a little lesser today — the tingle of arthritic changes in her paw just a little softer. maybe a wrinkle or two was gone, even, the clock reset to some earlier time all on account of poor rowdy’s early demise. 

ah well, qiao thought bemusedly — at least he’s young forever now. 

but riot — where to put him? the ritual had only needed the one, and qiao sensed that like stormchaser, the overworld would rebuke any offer of his lifeblood for now. 

she thrummed her toes in the sand. he could make a fine fellahin — his features were just sharp enough to taste the distant coyblood — but perhaps his uses would be better served as a young mazoi. he was male, which spared him from worse fates — but where, where to put the boy?

she set out to find him with a low croon; it was time for his breakfast.

again, the wretch’s voice—summoning him, this time.
he stirs from his slumber and finds himself outside, not far from qiao’s quarters. a miserable ache plagues his mind. it takes him a moment to recollect last night’s trauma. he can’t recall how he ended up back here.
dark water. blood. a severed tail.
his heart begins to race again.
but he cannot find it within him to feel any sort of emotion whatsoever. the surge of grief had torn him apart so badly that when he collected himself, he had put the pieces back in a way that was wrong and altogether dysfunctional. the wound; now cauterized.
riot gets up, seeing qiao draw near.
he knew rowdy’s fate. he knew qiao would lead him to the slaughter. 
the boy approaches in his usual plain demeanor and waits for the hag to spit up his gruel. 
his eyes are reddened and jaded.

does he know?

his eyes were rimshot and red. qiao didn't bother with formalities as she brought him a thin strip of deer haunch. 

your brother is dead. she began to pack their piecemeal things; nearby, stormchaser's shadow moved.

their time here was drawing to a close. she planned to inform the doctor and eset of their travels back to akashingo; news of the pharaoh's joyous birth had reached her ears, and she'd done what she could in these halls.

if you plan to stay among the living, i advise you join the mazoi.

qiao greets him in her usual drab manner.
he looks to her face as she speaks, his reply is a simple,
i know.
the boy moves and takes the meat. rowdy had died, yes, but his appetite has not.
between a bites, he questions the crone.
why did you do it? 
but moreover he wants to know, like riley, like raider—
was he sick, too?
and he realizes he doesn’t even know—
what’s a mazoi?