This calf was never fatted, she thought to herself. Truly she was walking through Pharaoh's vision, and had endured seven long years of drought. An emaciated cow, every waking moment thirsting to be beloved.
Would they drag her carcass from this dream, fit for nothing but dog meat? Or were there seven fertile years ahead, when someone would draw their touch across her surface and conjure lush wheat fields from the soil?