Tucked away within the heart of the dunes is where our night cloaked lady spent her time nowadays, watching the steady growth of her only children. It had only been them since the rest of the ones she’d known had all disappeared into the winds. At one point she thought they all lost to the heat of the dunes itself, but none had been found so far. Usually she sent the boy’s out to look and scour the beach side and the places their uncles had once roamed in hopes of finding any living soul again, but today was and also felt different to her.

Eness was restless, setting out on her own when the sun was low and the boys were occupied enough to look over the fact their wayward mother was sneaking away, but there was just something about the way the winds pulled and tugged at her that made her go on and stride out across the shifting sands. She’d walked these lands long enough to know her way despite the terrain looking the same everywhere. From one oasis to another is how she travels, a meager look over each for any bodies and to quench her growing thirst for even in the midst of fall the lands of salem still promised a suffering death under the blaring rays of Ra.

It is on her fourth round that she finds two living bodies, one laying and the other standing above. She pauses, for she is not yet close enough to breathe in that familiar smell of her beloved, or else she’d of been charging in. Careful eyes watch the pair, ears straining to catch the words tossed at each other. The mare had an air of authority about her, desert breeding clear in the lines of her face and the leanness to her body but she was no one to eness who then moved eyes to the stallion who’d risen to snap back at the women. Here is where her breath catches, because even tired and battle worn her starry night was as familiar as ever without scenting him.

She plunges down the dune she stands on, rounding on the side of the oasis closest to Atair so she’d be facing the woman in charge, a fact eness cares not for as she slides to a hasty but graceful stop and fixes a cold stare on the mare in front of her. “Curse your wicked tongue,” Eness snaps at the woman, even though she hadn’t fully heard what was spoken already but could guess given Atair’s reaction.

She spares the male at her side a glance, quick and assessing. He was alive, her stars had come home, and while anger did boil within her blood for his long departure she can’t help but to risk losing the attention she’d held on the stranger to brush gentle lips against the tangled locks of his dark mane, whispering for only his ears, “welcome home husband.”