Sly Fox Sand Dunes stairway to neterikhet

aw!!

For a time, fortune had smiled upon her. Draped in luxury, she had basked beneath the desert sun, ensconced in chambers of gold, with servants attending her every whim. Life had been just then; kind, even. But as with all things gilded, its luster had faded, slipping through her grasp like the very sands she once ruled.
Now, stripped of silken pelts and the comfort of familiar voices, she wandered through foreign dunes, their contours strange beneath her paws. Shiruyeh knew her sands; had memorized their undulating forms as one memorizes a lover’s touch. But these were alien, shifting in ways she did not know. The scent of dry earth filled her lungs, grounding her in the solitude of this barren land.
Perhaps an oasis lay beyond the horizon; perhaps another kingdom awaited its queen. With her muzzle held high, gilded eyes swept the endless expanse, searching.

It felt strange to be back here, following these same dunes he'd crossed months ago. It was different now. The weight of it all was lifted from him and in its wake... Well, it was just some place he'd been through once. No longer did he toe the line between life and death. No longer did his blood dot a trail through the sands.

He wasn't particularly sure why he came here of all places. Beyond these dunes, a deserted cenote. Strange how the soil we were born on always calls us home. His paws had guided him down this path.

The gods had guided him.

Yeah, no. He was trying, but his sincerity was seriously lacking. Well, he dared them to smite him for his heresy.

While he flourished in the quiet of his own mind, another made their way across the dunes, a woman woven in the pale hues of the very desert that surrounded them, he was lucky to have caught glimpse of her at all. In the typical broody fashion Nokht came to embody so well, he announced his presence with a soft grunt, mismatched gaze meeting with her own ichorous gold.

The boy, wound in snakeskin greys, limps a step closer. Hello. Are you searching for something? he asked in a soft, low voice, if only because he might've been able to guide. And, well, nobody was alone in the lowlands without a destination, that was a good way to die of thirst, or heatstroke.

Only the deserving should meet with such a fate.

The warm breeze carried a voice to her ears; a masculine tone, drifting like a whisper through the dunes. With a fluid turn, she faced the source, revealing a grayish boy with piercing violet eyes, cold as twilight.
„Greetings, young man!” Her voice, rich and smooth, spilled into the desert air, each syllable weaving into the shifting sands. She dipped her muzzle slightly, a gesture laced with poise. His question was fair; no soul wandered these dunes without purpose, not under the watchful blaze of the relentless sun. And yet… did she have one? Even Shiruyeh could not say for certain what she sought.
The woman took a step closer, her paws ghosting over the sand, leaving only the faintest trace, her tail dancing like a plume caught in the wind.
„I am,” a nod, firm yet introspective; a confirmation meant as much for herself as for him. „Tell me, do you know of an oasis nearby? My paws grow weary from the road.” A soft sigh escaped her lips as she lifted a forepaw, shaking off the weight of distant miles.

She carries herself with the same ghostly poise that he'd once thought was singular to Pharoah, and as she nears he wonders again if he has come upon a spirit, or a wolf.
He does not linger on the thought as she asks of an oasis. The oasis. He is well-versed with the location. Eyes on the inside, if you will. His tail flicks at the mention.
There is hesitation, or maybe something more like assesment in his gaze. Trust was something uneasy, but Nokht was not about to be disrespectful to this stranger. She did not carry the scent of that place or its people. That alone smoothed the fur of his spine.
I do. I can take you there, if you like. He finally speaks, a timid quietness to his voice as he shifts his stance, turning to look south, the breeze a gentle caress to his heat-worn fur. You will have our hospitality.
Did he know that for sure? He knew it was what was right, at least. Pharoah surely would not turn her away, and Nokht could catch her a fish, if any protested to an extra mouth.

Shiruyeh watched with a slow, steady gaze, her stance relaxed yet poised. She expected his hesitation; wariness was only natural when faced with the unknown. Still, when he spoke of an oasis, something flickered in her golden eyes, a faint glimmer of intrigue. Water; a reprieve for her aching paws.
With a languid stretch, she straightened, the motion fluid and unhurried, as if the world itself moved at her pace. „How generous,” she purred, her head tilting slightly, appraising him now with newfound interest. „I’ll take you up on that.” She stepped closer, deliberate and measured, „Hospitality is a rare treasure these days.” A wistful sigh left her lips, though it carried no real sorrow; just the weight of memories she did not care to relive.
The dust man was well-mannered, polite in a way few were anymore; a rare breed. With a subtle flick of her tail, she signaled her willingness to follow, but not before tapping her nose lightly against his shoulder; a silent prompt, a feline-like gesture of amusement. „And what name does such a courteous young man go by?” she inquired, voice smooth as silk, her gaze sharp beneath the veil of warmth.