Lion Head Mesa know me broken by my master

Zaahira listens oh-so intently, hanging on every word. She is silent throughout.
And when he finishes, her lips crease in a hum. So many gods, each with purpose and meaning. They had all died for something, it seems, and Zaahira is eager to drink from the knowledge.
You are wise man, Akhtar, at that, something that appeared to be a grin, followed by a swivel of dark-tipped ears. I am no pupil, and you show me your ways as if I was.

And perhaps there was some implication there.

But now, her focus was drawn back to her surroundings. Her tail raises in an impatient flick, though her expression is otherwise telling of no emotion. Where are we going?