Shy Deer Steppes Where the shivering dog rests

The dark woman offered him direct answers. The man was called Ramesses, but he seemed to prefer being called by his title. It was a peculiar thing, but nearly everything about Akashingo had been strange to Foxfur. It was not a clan he would willingly spend his time in, he was certain of this much.

As the doctor led him into the Pharaoh’s throne room and presented him like an object, the warrior stared up at the wolf called Pharaoh. The traveler’s weary gaze was shrewd. He could see the servants who dwelled around him. They looked stricken with something – devotion, perhaps. Foxfur had never seen anything like it in all his years.

Greetings, Pharaoh, your- your dark-furred warrior has extended your invitation. I give my apologies, there had been a time when I had come and was barred from your lands by a dark man with greyed features. I have hunted on the outskirts of your clan since then.

The warrior dipped his muzzle slightly, hoping it would be enough.

I seek a young man. A yearling named Crowfeather. He is a prince to our people and his father has sent me to find him. The grey-muzzled one has led me to believe he is here.