Hoshor Plains Is it real?

Summer's sun blazed at its zenith in the sky and heated a traveler's back as she paced through a field of seasonally jaundiced grass. She breathed deeply and relished the open air. How cramped the forests could be! Certainly, this land was unlike her birthplace -- a dry and arid place with a different kind of charm. Ahhotep's slender maw tested the wind. She was a stranger here, lost in a sea of evergreen, but hardly a meek animal. With bright eyes she journeyed forth, hoping to happen upon a native of this new world.

In the heat of late spring, Potema strode out into the Flatlands, nose to the ground or to the air, desperate to find her daughter. Koume, her eldest, named for the Goddess of Dawn and Dusk, had been missing for so long now...she knew that she was safe, somehow, but she could not be sure until she could see her daughter's face once more, the mismatched eyes peering brightly at her. She tracked into the plains, eyes darting everywhere in the search of a silver and black pelt, or leaf-green and amber eyes.

Ahhotep saw the she-wolf before scent or sound reached the vagabond; a shard of bright alabaster weaving urgently with purpose through the meadow. The traveler could not know what dire circumstances faced the Disgraced, and so she approached amicably. Her sleek build fell into a reposed posture, a curious gaze painted upon a visage fine-tuned for desert living. The rest of her kin had always been wary of otherworlders... perhaps that is why the young woman had struck out on her own.

However, the closer Potema became, the more clear signs of stress revealed themselves. Ahhotep's cinammon brows cinched with concern. "Sister," the words fell clumsily out of her mouth, spoken with a thick accent, "trouble?" Uncle had taught her some common tongue, but not enough to string a full sentence together.

In the inky, coiling shadows of the Woods, it was hard to sneak up on the witch, for she knew every tree root and bush there. But it had been a long time since she had traveled, longer since that she made her way into the Hoshor Plains. With her mind racing and distracted, it was inevitable that she lurch in surprise, her single eye widened as she focused on the figure before her that spoke the foreign tinged words. Yes, She ventured reluctantly, despair pushing her to speak intimately with this stranger. I am missing my daughter. Her name is Koume.