Lion Head Mesa Sessho-seki

qiao waited alongside sayf for ramesses' blessing. the king was visibly rattled.

when he bowed his great head and stepped away, qiao rushed forward. of the scenery, she drank in everything. a deep draught of breath first: what were the scents here? what did the air taste like?

she closed her eyes.

satsu's body burned in her mind. she pushed it away.

scents of something floral hung along the fringes of her awareness. when qiao opened them, she saw faint footprints in the dirt.

ramesses was besides her, his outrage glowing as his voice bounced fearsome down the corridor.

the meat -- the meat! qiao sniffed it curiously, unwilling to test it. my king, i do not know. but give me time to study this. qiao's gaze flickered to sayf knowingly. her trust in him was implicit -- or as close to implicit as she could give a male.

she took the piece of meat gently between her paws, frowning. it was properly cured with no immediate trace of tampering -- and yet, a faint odor lingered she could not place. bundling it between her peltskin, qiao rose. my king, in times of crisis often your gut instinct is the truth. but do not say it! her gaze flickered between each party. :if there are those who wish to kill our queen, there are those who wish to listen in to our conversations. i will take this and study it at once. it is my advice you close this room to any outsider, my king -- there are clues here we have yet to find. whose tracks are those, over by the petals?::