Lion Head Mesa gold drenched

Akhtar’s head rose eventually, supplication done for the time being. Now, he would rest. The saluki stretched his body out, wiggling his toes, tail curling in on itself, before he stood straight. 

He gave a short noise, giving one limb an odd shake, before he was turning to go back down the Mesa. Perhaps Belen wouldn’t mind bringing him a meal? It was out of his way to go himself, after all.

Brown eyes found the shape of the queen, and the priest stopped in his tracks, head snapping up, before he was dropping into a deep bow.

Forgive me, highness. I did not notice your approach. Internally, Akhtar cursed himself, his body held stiff with tension. Who knew the tempers of royals? Akhtar did not.