Lion Head Mesa but the doors won’t shut until they’re sure there’s nothing left to use

ramesses of the red earth. qiao's gaze apprised him warmly. she bowed. my pharaoh.

even in its inception akashingo had been a palace of grandeur. yet now, in her absence, it seemed gold filigree roared to life. ramesses bathed in splendor, and he wore royalty in the assured manner of a cat. i bring good news of my journey. but first -- a gift.

from her deerskin pelt she procured three quail eggs that had been transported with great care, wrapped in seaweed that had dried to a salty crisp. a token of good faith from our merchant in the south.