The river was a familiar one, though some things seemed... different. The scents that had crowded its shores were sparser, now. Thin, and scattered. A wispy fog rolled off the mountains, hanging low over the rippling surface like clouds. And most interestingly, it no longer felt the same pull as last time; the one that had drawn it here (among others) in the first place.

The water still burned going down, bitter and acidic. It retched the foul liquid into a bush, but other than a mild numbing of the tongue and throat, it did not die. Curiosity, as it always did, nagged at it.

It went for another sip.

The dreams were strange, yes, but not unwelcome. She beheld them as a friend, a loving audience who had been granted special insight that others had not. The greater gods wanted her to know something, a secret that beheld the fates of all their kind, and Ampoule found it – well, ultimately, flattering. It meant she was distinguished from all others.

It meant she held responsibilities that they could only dream of. She was of a level of importance that would be discussed for ages. Her prophecies had never before been so vivid, so just.

At that moment, the goddess watched a tiger. It wasn’t a pretty sight, with all the retching and poison and such, but Ampoule relished every aspect of the mortal experience, and toeing the line of death was one of them. To approach death and taste it intimately was a thrill she would never be able to experience. This feline did so openly; and then went back for more. Ampoule began to wonder if the cat actually did desire to die.

Perhaps it is as other toxins are, she purled, looking into the whirling, purplish waters as if it was a looking glass, and the right amount can grant one enlightenment. She goaded, not so subtly, for the dusky tiger to imbibe more.

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