Lion Head Mesa Thárros

jawahir did not trust many. they did not think it logical to put down their guard at any point, except for the pharaoh, and so as they sought the caches beneath the trees they were wary of the mazoi.
it was not anything overt. while he spoke, the coyote cut in to the clay and pushed aside the dry chunks of old grass that lay within the earthen pits, seeking treasures.

do you like the pharaoh, jahwahheer?
they are focused and silent until finally something uproots, and out of the burrow jawahir draws some old - admittedly useless - herbs which they toss aside.
looking up from their work and to the bronzed man, they are smiling, and there is something wild about their eyes.

he is the sun, and i am the field that basks beneath him.
chuckling softly to themselves, they do not stop there, although their words become less cryptic:
he is a good and just ruler, a capable lover, and divine of temperment. as they move to try another cache their voice shrinks slightly.
do you like him? they feel they know the answer.