god. she sneers with tight lips.

then he is pushing her, and imenet must take to knuckles and feet, else greet the dirt again. still she glances at him out the corner of one forward-facing eye. hateful.

water. it was dryness which tightened her lips. all at once she becomes aware of how empty her body is. a hand goes to the tuck of her belly, aware that nothing is in it.

odd, that only now this comes to her.

she turns herself on knuckles to face the oryx - nakhtmin, if she must use his name. to her, his horns are a far cruder tool. and yet, with her chin defiantly lifted, a curl creeps over imenet's snout. she pictures herself astride this burdenous beast, a horn in each fist, fingers slotted between the gaps in the bands of gold.

if you insist. her smile is for herself mostly. imenet makes to board the oryx.