Sakhmet only allows her ears to unfold as the stallion veers to cut across her path, the howling of the wind almost drowning out his voice. Peace; he wished for the one thing she could not give, but she still slows the tempo of her pillars until she finally stands there upon the beach. The sound of the lapping sea water was a poor replacement for Amun’s song, and she buries her ears once more as she bares her burning gaze upon the stallion.


“Are you truly made of the sands if you cannot run the length of them? We are granted the cooler night air and yet you still worry for lack of breath.” she sneered at the stallion, her tail lashing her flanks. Although her delicate nares were flared and the muscles within her body burned, she did not pant for air as she had been given the gift of wind. In her years spent cast aside, when they would come for the cursed one meant to corrupt their sacred treasure, her lasting breath had been the only thing to keep her alive.


Lifting her dished face, she glances back the way they had came, finding the group and her beloved were long left behind. Again, the burn of jealousy and hurt returns, causing a front hoof to stomp into the wet shore sand. Regret soon cascaded over her, wishing she had not turned away, had not indulged herself in a run. Sakhmet should have put a stop to what could very well have happened now that she had gone.


Eyes turning to the stallion again, they did not relinquish their anger. Instead, he only seems to add onto their fire. “What would it matter, if Shu did not leave me mortal? You have no attachment.” she challenged, lifting her chin to the stallion.