The brief touch of their flesh leaves fire in it’s wake, thanks to the hormones of her gender. Sakhmet seems all but immune, her hooves returning to the sand as the stallion scrambles away from her. The sound of his surprised whinny had seemed sharp in the silence, and soon it drifts away to leave only tension lingering between them. Her two toned eyes watch him with the same stoney expression, but inside her heart hammers with uncertainty. She felt no burn of retaliation, nor the scent of blood. InsteadInstead, he stands at a distance now, looking at her with the same mistrust that plagued her every fiber. Finally, Sakhmet’s ears come forward, and she lowers her crown from it’s high stance to be level with her withers.


“You did not return it.” she said, her tone filled with the same disbelief she felt. Sakhmet had felt so sure he had been lying, and that he would dispatch her now that she had given excuse from her supposed attack. Which in truth, had been no more than a bluff that he had fallen for. Slowly, she inched closer to him, as if he might find flight again. Only stopping once she had drawn close enough to extend her ashen muzzle towards his own, her ears still cast forward.


“I am not meant for a Soul Sewn, nor to be a wife. I was born to feed the earth, but Eness dared the fates. I truly do not know what is expected of me here.” It was the barest truth she had ever offered, and she said it no louder than a whisper.