this moon.
this moon, it hung wide and silent and red. sitamun stared at its roundness with apprehension and with wonder. the fellahin had gone just outside the camp to bury debris, but when the task was finished, transfixed and speechless she had looked to the sky.
for these past months, she had bent her head in service to the Great Royal Wife, to the needs of satriya. those longings which eked out from around her tightened constraints were not turned toward her goddess, but toward pleasures of the flesh.
radiant! the moon seemed to turn its crimson face upon sitamun. Khonsu bleeds. perhaps it is Set's teeth which have torn the god.
this thought was not her own, and after a breathless moment sitamun prostrated herself. Nephthys was wife to Set, and so her voice might give life as avatar for her patronness, pleading for the Dread One to turn these strikes away from his fellow siblings.
and yet! and yet! her voice found a sliver of old teaching, faded;
did Khonsu bleed or was it Iah?

---

Lost.

For how long had he wandered this foreign land? It had surely been months - perhaps even years, who could say? Only the gods knew how far his paws had traveled, how he had endured the many trials and sufferings this terrible world had to offer. Poisoned air in the forests, toxic water in the highlands; the Wastes had scorched the very fur from his skin, and the heavy, unyielding clouds to the north had shrouded Ra's light from the land.

Mekh looked like shit.

Mekh felt like shit.

He could not find his Pharoah, he had found no safe shelter. At every turn, he found himself assailed by larger predators, inclement weather, natural disasters, and now -

Tilting his head up to look at the darkening sky, the moon bleeding like a great red wound, Mekh felt his chest tighten. Now Khonsu was acting up.

So distracted was he, the coywolf did not detect an incoming tree-root as he abruptly stumbled forward. Disheveled, disgruntled, and thoroughly out of his element, Mekh swore. Ghabi! (Idiot!)

But he was not alone any longer, and had very nearly bumped into a woman in a posture of prayer.

Oh, he said. Thankfully she looked unharmed; Mekh offered a deep bow, bending himself nearly as low as she. Apologies, lady with fur of sunset. I did not see you there.

---

turn His face from this murder. turn His heart from this hatred, Lady of the Temple, nebet of our house.
sitamun might have continued the litany were it not for the garbled word sounded behind her. she whirled in graceful rise, ears up, eyes hardening. his blunder had nearly cost the priestess her footing, and now she glowered at him with the all righteous anger of her role.
the man was travelworn and did not look well. juxtaposed against the velvet of his tongue, his appearance stirred something in sitamun. he had not meant to stumble, nor to call out. his intention had not been to disturb her.
the fellahin put her head to one side in consideration, pursing her lips. you have come very close to the travel-camp of satriya. our great royal wife has a kindness for wanderers. but the iron eyes had not yet softened; she took him in with a cool appraisal. now you have seen me. what has befallen you?
she could afford to be kind in light of such a smooth apology.
seeing that his eyes were gold, that he was slim-built with what she felt was desert grace, only then did her annoyance become intrigue.

---

The curious familiarity of her prayer-speech gave him pause. It sounded just as the priestesses of the Kemet family had, a hopeful plea to the gods for their benevolence and generosity; he paused, looked up at the moon, and seemingly parsed the connection.

For just a moment her eyes were wrathful, turning their ire upon him like twin daggers. He did not know what stayed her righteous anger from further escalation, but here, in this strange pocket of silence where she carefully regarded him, Mekh appeared to be intrigued. She said nebet, and referred to a house - she also carried the scent of many, so that must mean -

The answer came in short order.

Satriya.

He had not heard of this particular dynasty, but there were many beneath the watchful eye of the gods as they dutifully carried out their deities' sacred will as intermediaries.

I was foolish and did not observe as keenly as I might, Mekh offered with another short dip of his head. I have grown - careless, in my journey.

'Journey' was a very lovely word for the hell he had experienced up to this point. It made it all sound very noble, and Mekh distantly hoped this might carry some weight against her perception of him versus any pity that might otherwise flicker across her delicate features. No; Mekh would hold onto what dignity he had left.

I am Mekh; a gift to my Pharoah, Seti of the Kemet, but now displaced, he said. It was sudden, and I still do not understand; as if Khonsu, or Shu, whisked me away from the house in which I served, and now -

The coywolf cast his gaze to the side as the Seti-shaped hollow in his chest tightened. They had been close. Now there is only Mekh.

Was this a punishment, he often wondered - had his lips been too loose, conveying information he ought not to have - or worse, had he in his penchant for acquiring knowledge managed to listen in on something sacred and holy, not meant for his lowly ears?

So far it felt like one.

The lady's iron eyes had softened only marginally, perhaps swayed by his fervent apology, but Mekh remained respectfully contained in his posture; he would not push his luck.

---