In the Home of Hathor, the weakened goddess could only muster up some strength in her form. The replaced jug was halfway filled when a sudden visitor came from the corner of the closet.
Hathor was in her bed relaxed, despite being bedridden for several centuries; she felt bliss from being pampered by a human and his small companion for a long while. She smiled from the small brief interaction with the human, who helped her despite her ragged state.
The breeze flowed through the house, refreshing the goddess with its cold, soothing effect. Pages fluttering open and closing books, the pins' descending plinks softened to silence as if the soft gale was a pillow that halted its gravity.
Slithering from the shadows was felt, but Hathor reminded herself that she was safe, away from Apep. As she returned to sleep from the exhausting extraction, the slithering became more apparent as the goddess went into a deep slumber.
