Lion Head Mesa You left town to live by the rifle.

He had returned only a short time ago to the quarters made especially for the mazoi. The beast had found that perhaps a short nap would have been beneficial between patrol outings, but alas, sleep did not find him. So, out again he would go.
Prowling from the mouthed entrance, Khaba paused for a moment to shift his shoulder slightly. It took only a small rotation before the cuff seemed to crack, settling with ease into place. Laying in such an odd position in the cramped space made his bones ache. But, it was nothing a good stretch couldn't mend.
Though intent on continuing forward, the mazoi found he could not. A smaller wolf stood in his way.
Lip curling, the beast sent a fuming breath in their direction, demanding that they move so he could be on his way. He had no patience for an audience with any today, not even if it were the pharaoh himself.