I prepare myself, letting the horrific screams of dying mortals calm me
down.
I run a licked paw over my furry head, smearing the last bit of dried
blood away.
I sigh and enter.

She stands up, fuming, her mind in turmoil, spiralling out of control.
She lets loose her vicious cry, bearing down on me with disdain.
She pauses at long last.

I want to tell her she's out lived her usefulness, but I baulk.
I let my mind wander to thoughts of Elders who drift in and out of
torpor.
I wish she would follow their lead.

She commands, her words bearing no weight, her ancient voice empty.
She storms out.

I sigh.

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Khepary, in the year 274 MA.