Haunted Wood his foes would go blind from overexposure to awesomeness

Hatshepsut wanders. 

Hunger is a constant, not broken by the few mouthfuls of flesh she manages to fish from the waters here and there. Her teeth strip the bark from twigs, her tongue sweeps insects into her mouth. Logs are split to find grubs and she digs deeply into wet banks for worms. Her suffering is compounded by the indignity of her situation, and the Regent finds self-hatred lurking upon her one morning.

Hatshepsut wanders, until sharp movement through the trees draws her attention; the gilded woman sweeps down upon it quickly. A child, playing in the dirt. The Egyptian is reminded momentarily of her daughter's years as a babe, and then the thought leaves her, and hunger replaces it.

A morsel of flesh here -- Hatshepsut hates herself for thinking so. She is near to the pup, but not to near as to be easily seen; here she sits to watch its gamboling, for guilt overtook her brief and murderous thought, and as penance she will guard the child until its family locates its whereabouts.

A handsome little rogue, masked and confident. She smiles wanly.