Ghost Lion Crag wilting lotus

Hatshepsut. Rexxar nodded, with lifted brows and a smile that bridled laughter. That was a mouthful, and not one he dared repeat having only heard once. He would butcher it, he was certain. Yet, he would be surprised to know she felt similar about his own name.

She moves onward, and Rexxar considers her path for a moment, before his paws start to turn in another direction perpendicular to her own. He had seen all he needed to see of the crag, and had no reason to pursue the slight female. So, he would take his scouting elsewhere, in search of more nooks, more crannies, more corners.