Lion Head Mesa Hear them mumblin' low

sutekh. right foreign, as was guessed. 

the nobleman laid down on his side, resting fluffy cheek on dainty paw, tail's sways his makeshift fan. his expression was haughty, eyes half-closed as if inspecting the very threads god knit this man from.

and some man t'was. right jackalesque, of ambiguous breed, tall ears and slight figure, but nothing deviating from the core of a lupine. dusty black, dust as cape and helm, and eyes that were... mightsome unnerving.

but gucci wouldn't let it display.

"ah ain't took one step past th' gates since sky's got clear." he drawled, feigning a lack of interest in this intriguing man. "wha's it like out beyond?" beyond the mesa. beyond the hunting grounds and berry patches. far past the fields and forests.

how much had sutekh seen?