Lion Head Mesa it's the same old trick, they played their hand

surrounded by attendants and a guard, Toula moved to her favored place of prayer—the temple of Iset built here. their conversations had grown in frequency as of late, as Toula pondered motherhood as a growing woman with no mother of her own.
her memory of the Shabti that had been this to her, that was this to her, faded as the sands of time continued their shifting and their sifting. if only she could see her again, surely she would know her, as she knew
Qiao! one with her pressed forward to introduce to the coyote the new Pharaoh, and Toula smiled as she remembered the woman before her. yes, this woman always had the most intriguing things upon her, with her—and her father spoke very well of her, thinking her sharp and wise,
Toula remembered that too, as she looked to the woman before her! sharp indeed, as sharp as any cutting fang. you are looking very well, Toula said in earnest, I am afraid my father had left this world, before he told me of any place you may have gone. but he always spoke well of you, and I remember you fondly myself, yes, memories, rosy in hue, of Qiao moving throughout the palace… traveling and trading! 
she hoped, though, that Qiao might wish to stay again! she had always been an enigma to Toula, who continued to respect her for these memories and her fathers words of her.