it had not yet been dawn by the time zaahira left akashingo.
she had told @Senmut of her itinerary, drawn for him a map in the sand. take care of her in my absence, she had requested; keep eyes sharp from here to the southern land. to pharaoh @Toula she delivered a small gift of hand-picked herbs wrapped in rabbitskin, meant as a blessing; a promise that she would, at least, not return without an answer. @Rashepses and the vizier @Mesen-ka were, too, extended an invitation. meet me in the mountains, if you please. with or without them, her word was final.
on her back she carries dried meat, a rolled pelt that would now act as her bed, and a strange prickling feeling that crept up her spine. when was the last time she had gone without akashingo's spoils?
it was a hard world to return to, a smack in the face that seemed to knock her in the jaw the further she got from the mesa. she could no longer see it when she turned her head over her shoulder. it frightened her much more than she would ever let on, to be away; to not know what would become of her absence, even if only temporary.
but she had made a promise.
she was to fetch a wedding gift.