Oh - sound. Sound that wasn't the rush of her breath moving through her mouth, sound that was the music tone of another voice. Hecate groaned to re-engage her own voice, and told Qebhet she heard her, only she spoke the words in Ancient Greek. Pressing one hand against the ground, she slowly pushed herself over, half twisting on the ground so she could look up at Qebhet, head pillowed on one tingling, outstretched arm. She heard her own words filtering slowly back to her, understood they had been wrong, and searched for a shared language.
"Shit," she rasped softly, and her lungs spasmed in a single cough.