Hatshepsut was silent. The man was defecting, and there was sure to be an important reason behind his choice. The woman watched him quietly, mulling over what he had spoken. Swiftcurrent Creek. And the mountain pack, which she would avoid. His golden eyes had traveled in the direction of his current home, and she found the treeline easily with her own gaze, a dark shadow from this distance. "Swiftcurrent must be a country of fools if they would drive a one such as you away."
Her words were not intended to flatter, and she expected that the man would understand this. Hatshepsut was not a creature fashioned for fawning, for groveling; no. Egypt had belonged to her, at least for the time before her half-brother had found his testicles at last and driven her away on pain of death.
"You will need strong bodies as well," the Regent murmured, training her cool lapis eyes upon his own confidently. She needed not the rigidity of a long-established pack, nor one with a leader who might very well exhort his wolves into danger. The seed of a new order had been sown within her mind, and Hatshepsut would not easily forget it.
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