King Elk Forest the inundation

She sleeps on; were it not for the scent of him, the pressure of his gaze may not have woken the Regent, but come alive she does. Lapis gaze is calm, momentarily muzzy with slumber, but it quickly passes -- she impassively stares up into the opulent colour of the man's piercing eyes, sweeping past them to take in his jet pelt.

Hatshepsut does not rise; she crosses her forelegs and is silent for several heartbeats. Inside herself, however, fear courses -- what did he mean by watching her, drawing so close? Perhaps he intends to claim this woodland for himself -- if so, Hatshepsut will not scuffle over the bare, insect-limned trees. 

The woman waits for him to speak, though she has little expectation that words will come, not from this silently dominant brute.