Lion Head Mesa i made wine from the lilac tree

she was world-weary and ravaged by the long excess of worry. wind blew snow across the frozen grass of the long-buried grassland. "this is akashingo," he told the former island-woman. 
where had she been? what had she done in this time since all of them had been away?
"is it your birthplace which calls you, or the mesa?" pharaoh was cautious but there was a welcome in him that was not easily extended. the sea was very far from these lands. her figure showed the travel's demand.
and yet he knew her to be a woman of a darkened holiness, a counterpart to the lightbringing priests of his own court. maegi did not work beneath the eye of Ra. his intrigue rose anew.
"you should come inside. allow me to treat you as a guest." in her he had found a sort of kinship. ramesses could see only benefit in repaying this.