When the world ended there was only one thing on Nazli's mind: it was not Senmut, despite his voice shouting across them all, loud enough and passionate enough to make the walls shake; it wasn't her Pharaoh, her glowing golden queen who should have been protected, should have been put first as soon as that initial shudder quaked through the world; it wasn't even for the children who screamed or the fellahin to whom Nazli had been so selflessly devoted! Her only thought was of her daughter.
Seeking the small red body, which should have been there beside her. That little girl who had grown like a miracle within her womb, granted to her by the very gods who were set now to judge them... There was nobody there. Nazli reached in to the dark and grasped at nothing, seeing a silhouetted body crushed beneath the cracking stones — hearing the struggle of bodies which had somehow survived, but had been pinned — knowing the voices of mazoi, of fellahin, as they became a din, and as the shadows came for them the silence came too.
Nazli screamed for Aiesha even as the darkness took her.
The lakeside was as silent as one might expect for a place of death and emptiness. Snow was falling rapidly, with each layer effectively sighing as it landed, these little whispers being one of the few constants; this literal white noise filling the ears of this coyote woman. Her body was limp and curled in to a ball, as if she had chosen this particular embankment for her sleeping place.
Shuddering beneath the blanket of white, she comes-to slowly at first, and then rapidly with a kick of her legs and a gasping name on her lips — but Nazli's voice was a rasp. She tasted sand in her throat, except there wasn't any, not really. A memory of being buried, or a nightmare.
Around her now was only the endless white snow of nothingness, only silence, and the darkness of a cloudy night. Her voice had failed; she had heard the way she had groaned the sound of her daughter's name and the way the snow had swallowed it, and she despaired.
Seeking the small red body, which should have been there beside her. That little girl who had grown like a miracle within her womb, granted to her by the very gods who were set now to judge them... There was nobody there. Nazli reached in to the dark and grasped at nothing, seeing a silhouetted body crushed beneath the cracking stones — hearing the struggle of bodies which had somehow survived, but had been pinned — knowing the voices of mazoi, of fellahin, as they became a din, and as the shadows came for them the silence came too.
Nazli screamed for Aiesha even as the darkness took her.
***
The lakeside was as silent as one might expect for a place of death and emptiness. Snow was falling rapidly, with each layer effectively sighing as it landed, these little whispers being one of the few constants; this literal white noise filling the ears of this coyote woman. Her body was limp and curled in to a ball, as if she had chosen this particular embankment for her sleeping place.
Shuddering beneath the blanket of white, she comes-to slowly at first, and then rapidly with a kick of her legs and a gasping name on her lips — but Nazli's voice was a rasp. She tasted sand in her throat, except there wasn't any, not really. A memory of being buried, or a nightmare.
Around her now was only the endless white snow of nothingness, only silence, and the darkness of a cloudy night. Her voice had failed; she had heard the way she had groaned the sound of her daughter's name and the way the snow had swallowed it, and she despaired.
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