Lion Head Mesa Anísychos

The fine-boned wolf drew closer to the guard.

Arsenio drew his chin upward, breathing in the scents of the coyote and noting only one of importance – the Pharaoh. Like spoiled fruit, the man’s scent was one that belonged only to him and his harem. The Greek was shocked that they would be there, with the queen’s personal guard. Was the spoiled king indulging in another member of his pack?

The mercenary laughed again, shaking his head at the sharp features of the other man.

I wish only for a day in the sun, beside the ocean of my home. A wish that can never come true, he spoke sweetly and his smile settled onto his features with warmth. A break pales in comparison.

Then, where is the Pharaoh? He does not desire your company?