Reunited – vigor resolutely crashed about through every vein. It was drawn deep throughout, and it emboldened Amunet to venture from the Peak. She knew the moon would follow as certain as Amunet understood she owed her sister a life—her life. Her existence peddled from the pockets of their parents, the ire of broken omen and bad moon luck. And though those sad chapters no longer existed in the consciousness of Amunet, the gratitude, the love, the need, the worship—it all remained.
Her heart would remain true.
She entered the Meadow, intent on finding the burden she had left there: to give to Amduat, to present and make amends. Less remorse for the boy, more fear of her sister’s reprimand. Sahure surely remained there, the daft boy. And they would bring him to the Peak, as it was understood—to take from Bahadir’s luck, and bestow a boon unto themselves, and the little desert flame they had made.
Yet—a disquieting thing lay in their path. The sun of her eyes fixed themselves on the waif and the sinsister shadow cast across her, a stranger; baleful intent fastened in the very fibre of the scenario presented. Drawn from the dark well, it came to her. Fear: it climbed the back of her throat and was soon joined by some otherworldly maternal instinct, Vulcan sisterhood, that bade protection was warranted. Amunet’s pace lifted into a canter, hastened to block the stallion from the girl that was not his.
“Turn your eyes and your illicit nature to someone better seasoned and prepared, beast.” Her chin lifted at him, her posture gathering in dominance and warning. A hoof stamped in his direction, prepared to go tooth and nail for the girl, to keep her safe, to keep her safe from the harrowing ills of strange stallions.
amunet
of the peak