11/4/2026, 1:35 PM
Little girls cry out when one tugs the others’ ear too hard. They toddle about, small paws webbed like geese. They make messes, powder their parents’ chambers in sticks and bones and heaps of clouded dust they can tromp through. They wag their tails and chirp their songbird throats.
Queen Merneith approaches the room where Sitamun and her babies rest, the royal attendants ferrying in two papyrus combs and an antelope liver.
The air smells of newborn; of Semat and Sitre.
Neith is smitten.
Queen Merneith approaches the room where Sitamun and her babies rest, the royal attendants ferrying in two papyrus combs and an antelope liver.
The air smells of newborn; of Semat and Sitre.
Neith is smitten.
