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777 - The wet season
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“What is this?!” Iu-Amun demanded.
“It is unbecoming to ask questions with pre-knowledge of the answer, father,” Neferet answered coolly.
In his clenched left hand was an ivory scroll tube, both tube and scroll yellowed with age, his right hand gesticulating frantically with passion and rage.
“Speak not to me like such again, Neferet. I am still your father and this is still my house!” The light of the solitary lantern danced upon his aging face. “You refused my wishes once before. You could have had a simple, fruitful life with the one you were betrothed to and–”
She cut his thought short, “Yes, and you would have been given a bountiful bride price. You cared little how I felt, asking me to marry that swine! You only desired your weal–”
Before she could finish her utterance, Iu-Amun’s right hand flew swift as a cobra strike, landing its backside across Neferet’s right cheek. Tiaa, who had been silently watching with tear-stained cheeks during their fight, as she always had, let forth a gasp and managed to wedge herself between the two.
“Enough!” The sickly woman cried out with a raspy cough. Her movements, labored, caused her to stumble. Iu-Amun, with a look of concern, quickly came to her side to assist her. Neferet also tried to aid her feeble mother, but Iu-Amun forced her back.
“Look at what you have done,” his voice, soft but accusatory, rose above the spasmodic coughs of Tiaa.
“It was you who struck me, father.”
“I–” Tiaa coughed. “I said enough!” Her mother choked out as her father helped Tiaa to her bedroll.
Iu-Amun rose after aiding his sick wife and stood pensively for a moment. “Yes, it has been enough.” He looked down at the ivory scroll tube in his hand, walked determinedly to the new palmwood door of their abode, yanked it open, and tossed the tube onto the dark sands outside. “Such has no place in my home.”
His gaze leveled at Neferet, “The choice is yours, dear daughter. You may continue on this path of yours, but know you are not welcome here if you do.”
“Iu-Amun!” Tiaa shot up from her reclining position to sit completely upright. “Do not–”
Iu-Amun’s hand rose in a motion to silence his wife. “The choice is yours to make, daughter.”
Neferet’s mouth hung agape. Time slowed until it stood still as she looked first to the door, then to her father, and finally to her infirmed mother. Her eyes, her entire face, tried to communicate something, anything to Tiaa. Was it a promise? A plea for help? A goodbye? She was not entirely sure herself, but whatever Tiaa saw, Neferet knew it meant a thousand words.
With tears flowing freely down her cheeks, she walked out the door and into her new life… ivory scroll tube in hand.