Shy Deer Steppes the silent shouter on the hill

maybe @Toula? (set near AK's borders)

As the sun rose, marking another clear-skied day of a new spring, the serpent Leshen prowled from the snowmelted steppes, closer and closer to the borders behind which the priestess sheltered. He craved her attention, itched and ached to fulfill her unmet needs; she had ordered the head of her enemy from him, and he had been unable to produce it.

Shame filled him every time he set redwine eyes upon the plateau of Akashingo, but it did not deter him from lingering. Ever present. Ever skulking. Ever hungry.

Akashingo’s Amiirad was quiet and considering as she, accompanied by guards, drifted near the borders to search for a place to build an altar to Khonsu. the traveling God had brought to her many a traveler, for which she was most grateful for! prayers did not feel enough; something must be built for Him! 
her attendants were also with her, and each of them—herself included—were dressed in dark furs. Toula, typically pristine, was not so perfectly done today after her mourning; but she wore the darkened fur near her tear ducts proudly. it would not stain, though, as her attendants would groom her to be certain of that. 
before Toula had found the perfect place, she saw a familiar face; gasping, Toula greeted brightly: Khonsu bless you! and, well, He already had, had he not? here he was, alive and well. Toula peered to one of her attendants, asking gently, could you make a spread for our guest…? hoping that she might entice this one nearer to her again—hopefully for a little while longer this day! 
Toula looked back to him and beckoned, please, join me for the hour, would you? in gentle invitation.

Leshen saw the funereal march of the girl and her attendants long before any of them saw him. He spied upon their strange dark dressings and markings, and he allowed himself to be noticed out of sheer curiosity. He was less wary of this pack, given that his witch-master lived in their midst, and he felt no immediate need to shy away from them.

At her voice, he recognized her as the one who had fed him nearly two full moons ago. She looked odd, compared to their first encounter, and he was not near enough to detect any illness on the wind, so when she beckoned him forward, he did so with a hesitant stride. After all, she had freely fed him before, what was to say she would not do so again?

Tilting his muzzle into the wind, he tried to scent what – if anything – was wrong with her, but nothing overly strange touched his senses. The serpent slithered nearer but maintained an unfriendly distance. Though certainly less flighty than before, he clearly still did not trust her or her gaggle of servants.

His eyes flitted back and forth from her to her picnic-setting assistants, questioning. The thief’s gaze asked: why do you call me closer?