Lion Head Mesa shaduf [m]

It took really long before Ramesses sent for him. Charles had made himself comfortable, meanwhile; he was being fed, he was being bathed, and his den was soft and warm, which was a real treat to his thin-furred body at the end of winter. He was beginning to think that maybe this life was not so bad, and while perhaps it should've made him nervous that Ramesses did not call for him in such a long time, he did not mind it. The coywolf came here because of Ramesses' words lingering in the back of his mind, after all, but he had found a treasure even greater when he came here in pursuit of something ungraspable. Tangible things, like food, comfort and sleep. Things he hadn't had in a long time; not since he had left the Saints (and even there, it'd never been as comfortable as here).

When finally someone came to him and asked him to come with, Charles immediately felt nervous. He remembered all too vividly how he had sort of agreed to meet with the Pharaoh, and now he was being asked to make good on that promise.

The halls were dark as he made his way, following the wolf that brought him there nervously. As he was brought to the room where Ramesses was, a shiver ran down his spine. This was it. He wasn't ready; hell, he didn't even know what he was supposed to be ready for.