Lion Head Mesa twenty-eighth

he studied that young face of a man risen from clergy, now a whisker's width from the throne.

gucci wondered if ambition had begun to rot the base of senmut's morals. whatever they might've been.

"peace." gucci said, flatly. "tha' 'er young majesty works fer prosperity through words. 's air what fills a ship's sails 'fterall."

his sickled tail wrapped about his forepaws.

"ah'll speak clear. mah loyalties are tah th' mesa, th' kingdom within. ah'll respect anyone enthroned. what ah won't... 's when little ambitious take a bite outta common sense." his grimace was bitter.