Lion Head Mesa i’m a god! how can you kill a god?

Senmut, no longer the boy but a priest in his own right. The nightingale tugged at a piece of fur on his ear, and took flight. Akhtar came along lazily, his walk slow and regal.

So I have learned. He spoke aloud. His face held a wane little smile.

Word reaches far. Even to the ears of the gods. He let his eyes turn to the distance, the smile never leaving his face.

You look well, Senmut.