p e a c e

The God was filled with great rage. His message had been sent, he was sure of it. The way his daughter moved had changed, she was more paranoid, more observant. It was becoming harder to watch her from afar – and this infuriated him. No longer could he watch her from a distance, savoring her sweet scent, her feminine musk, that beautifully grown face.

Ah, but.

He happened across a new scent, one of cinnamon. How could he not follow it to its source? On ivory paws he moved silently, his sleek form moving so easily onward.

The girl, oblivious to his presence, exuded an aura of peace and serenity, a stark contrast to the chaos that often engulfed their world. Setekh observed her once he had discovered her, intrigued by the tranquility that seemed to radiate from her very being. It was a rare sight indeed, a fleeting moment of calm amidst the storm. It left his thoughts a swirling maelstrom of yearning to infect that serenity with his presence.

As she settled upon the grass, her form illuminated by the sunlight filtering through the canopy above, Setekh found himself drawn to her, compelled by the ethereal beauty that surrounded her. He watched, silent as the night itself, as she closed her eyes and let out a soft hum, a melody that danced upon the air like a gentle breeze. He could not refrain from meeting her, knowing her, and so he cut through the foliage like a knife; his voice a velvet whisper. “Greetings. My sincere apologies for disturbing your rest. May I inquire about the melody you were humming?”