Lion Head Mesa Switch my whip, came back in black

It took a beat for the greeter’s words to land. Atreus did a visible double take when they did. The young she-wolf was the pharaoh? Atreus hadn’t realized it consciously but he’d assumed the leader here was a man, someone like Aventus or Germanicus. Of course, he knew of several women in leadership as well—Avicus, Fennec—but they were all old. She certainly wasn’t.

Lips parted slightly, he heeled when the spry man led him toward the towheaded leader. He was so fascinated by the situation, Atreus didn’t even think twice about the command to bow. He caught a brief glimpse of her pretty features up close before he averted his eyes and dipped his head. It wasn’t so much strange to defer to someone his own age as it was captivating; he felt no particular qualms.

Hello, I’m Scout. Actually, he found himself compelled to say for reasons he did not know, that’s a nickname, based on my specialty. You can call me Atreus.