The light around the edge of the bedroom curtains was beginning to brighten, and the little clock next to her bed showed that three hours had passed. His stomach growled again in protest of missing dinner, demanding breakfast, but he ignored it. On the bed, Shan lay in a peaceful sleep, the rise and fall of her chest the only movement other than an occasional twitch of her eyelids. About half an hour ago, she had screamed and arched off the bed, but when he tried to touch her, a strong shield of energy from an unfamiliar goddess kept him back. He could only hope that was a good sign. Every choosing was different, some lasting for days and others mere minutes. When he had been chosen, it had been in the middle of a firefight when he was still in the Marines. His god Mentu had taken him, chosen him in less than a minute, and plunked him back into his new and improved body in time to save his men. He fingered the elaborate bull's head tattoo on his arm, the mark of Mentu, and took comfort from it.
