Since her discourse with Njal, Hatshepsut had intended to leave these borderlands and forge her way deeper into the heart of the Wilds. And yet her fickle attentiveness to hygiene and to guarding her honed body against hunger had spoken, and the Regent had been coerced into remaining here another day, to bathe and to eat.

The emerald forest interested her; she would explore part of it before choosing her mountain path, being careful to skirt the collective odor of wolves gathered, as Njal had vaguely warned her of their leader. And while Hatshepsut did not truly trust him — how could she be so foolish, when they had only spoken once? — the grave rumble of his voice had not been deceptive.

Poised, her fur slightly damp from cleansing waters, the lapis eyes came to rest themselves on the trek of a delicate and wholly beautiful creature. Crimson and sunset, the girl was mainly cloaked in the color of finest linen, and she moved with a courtier's grace.

The court of Karnak had been filled with such exotic loveliness as this — dancers, concubines, even wives of lesser nobles. The wolfess wore the stamp of the desert upon her, unmistakable to another denzien of the hotlands, but it was not from the sands of the Regent's home she hailed. "Em heset net Hathor," the Regent called, wending her way across the loam to approach the other confidently. Yes, as she drew nearer, she was lovely, a jeweled lotus flower, and Hatshepsut appraised her coolly. What was she doing here, so far from the luxuries and primping that the role of a doted-upon wife would provide, or a harem?

The pair were approached by a male, but after a brief appraisal, Hatshepsut paid him no heed. Perhaps he was the pretty one's guard, though he did not hold the scent of a eunuch. A dangerous game indeed, though the Egyptian did not trouble herself with such details. "The language of this land? Yes," she murmured, a cool smile painting itself onto her features. "But that is not the only tongue you speak, surely — I have seen those like you in my courts at Karnak."

Lapis eyes moved slowly over the delicate features. Both the woman and her guardian held the fragrance of the Creek; it seemed these lands fairly crawled with the spawn of the waterbody. Silently she awaited the other's words. The beauty had seemed flustered, perhaps fearful, and the Regent's natural curiosity wished to know why it was a daughter of the desert held such emotion toward an Egyptian.

Hatshepsut held no respect for those who disdained their roots, and her lapis eyes cooled considerably as the girl spoke. The interplay betwixt herself and the male also perturbed the Egyptian; she straightened. "They came from a land called Persia," she explained, eartip flicking once. "Their demeanour, and yes, their beauty, was akin to yours. But of course I may have made a mistake," Hatshepsut added demurely. She knew she had not; she remembered quite well the fire-flame of the Shah, his coterie of wives and guards. They had come to Karnak in splendor and with exotic gifts, seeking alliance between herself and their lands.

"You are from the creek, yes?" the Egyptian inquired, seeking to smooth the ripple betwixt the two of them. The man continued to go without her attentions, for he played no role in the conversation between herself and the flower. Perhaps she was prejudiced, but Hatshepsut had placed the male in the role of a guard, and thus to her he was little more than a plant or pillar.

The Egyptian blinked as the guard swept forward, and somehow, simperingly, the girl allowed this, with no words of her own. Veiling her annoyance and growing disgust with the situation, the bantam wolf faced him directly, as he now seemed the only other notable party in this ugly little conversation. "I am Ma'at-ka-Ra Hatshepsut, Regent of Karnak, Daughter of Amun" she proffered, though she gave neither one of them the option of a smaller title.

"I am not in need of your names; your scent tells me what it is I wish to know. I have met many of you from Swiftcurrent these past days." In truth, she had nothing to ask them, not if the dynamic of a talk between women was to be wedged aside by a guard, and a man at that.

"Call for me if you rediscover your tongue and your heritage, lovely one," Hatshepsut purred blithely, mockingly to the Persian girl. "I will be near, though not so that I am threatening in any way." She moved past the pair, the movement of her paws swift and yet a slow dance that invited either of them to call her back — or attack from some wickedness in their hearts.