to feel his bones burning inside

The mare is antsy, easily forced into a defensive position upon my frustrated barking directed at the false god that dare show its beak to me, a true child of the gods. Her body shifts, standing before the filly in an act of instinct, her drive to protect the young kicking in as she maneuvers around the child she is trying to protect. "Mean no harm," the words are cautious and quiet, filled with surrender at the mercy of the fierce mother. Nantli had been the same way, my personal guardian in rainbow hues and cloaked in familiarity. 

The child does something unexpected, she skitters around her nantli and appears before me, confident that she can pass through this language barrier that her nantli cannot push past. Asavvi, she touches her chin to her breast to signify that it is her, looking at me cautiously before reaching out to touch her ebony lips to my cobalt breast. "Yaotl," she says, my head nodding in agreement to her statement. "Quema."

She is accompanied now by the false deity, who descends upon her in a flurry of golden wings and a narrow gaze that burns into me, intense and fiery. The false brings bitter distaste to my throat, lips dry and discomfort gripping my gut at the idea that such a being dare mock my culture, my beliefs before me. My face begins to unwillingly contort into one of utter disgust as pupilless golden eyes watch closely the winged beast. 

The ichpochtli of the sultana makes sure I know she is such, repeating it again to confirm that I am the descendant of Bellona. "Quema." I tell her, in agreement with what she has to say. She understands well the way my sentences are pieced together, using where they are placed and in what context to decipher my mother language. It is something I appreciate, that she is accepting and learning (although very minimally) some of the language I speak, spreading the culture at a minor rate. "Smart ichpochtli, very good." I nod to Megaera, hoping she knew that her child was so intelligent, and would make a great peacemaker if she so desired. 

Tossing azure crown to the side, I find that no, nantli had lived among the Hidden Falls members before she left Helovia's borders. "Nantli live with Falls, she spy." I inform them, equipped with enough knowledge of nantli to fill text books, for I'd clung to her hip from the day of my birth to the day I left Arto to venture out into the world beyond. It felt strange, to no longer be able to turn to her for guidance and to request information. It was devastating the first few days, witnessing nature at its most extreme, itching to ask nantli, "what is this?"  Instead I turned to emptiness, to a cold space where nantli should have been. 

"Must go, I find tiger as nantli wishes." I tell them, looking up at the sultana with her mighty eagle and bold child, a strong cuauhtli from her stance, obvious scars along her form proof enough that she has battled far more than I. "May go to Throat once done?" I inquire, hoping Megaera will reserve a future seat for me under the Throat's banner, that she will accept my company among the other sand dwellers. I only pray she trust me enough, that my shouting at her Gwaihir does not sway her opinion on me. 

-- cuauhtli means "warrior", quema is "yes",
ahhha switched pov bc 3rd wasnt working well with her and so im hoping 1st will (sorry you gotta deal with this c":)