Ghost Lion Crag wilting lotus

He does not follow, and Hatshepsut chides herself for the brief sting of disappointment that comes upon the heels of this realization. Yet she is not one to beg; she chooses her own path and moves slowly upward, determined to find her way out of this "crag," as Rexxar called it, ripe with the stink of cat. 

And yet the Regent pauses, eyes falling upon the sinuous smoke of his clutching form. "If you are otherwise unaffiliated, Rexxar," the wolfess intones, calling to him, rolling the middle syllable of his name with a clipped tongue, "travel with me. A creature is better off with another in the midst of all this pestilence."