Lion Head Mesa That's a fine looking high horse

Such pain on that face, twisted and horrible in its agony! Yet she found she could not look away, because it was something real. Real too was the way her paw slid forward to for a moment touch the other’s. Soft. How strange to look for so long, and only now touch. And it is only in this way the fellahin, whose body had a hundred uses given to another, knows how to comfort.

And she drank.

“I wanted a life. That was no life.”

And drank.

“I’m sorry he left. No, I’m not sorry. You can have a future here too, you know.”

She stands to pour more wine, filling the bowl now to the brim.

“Senmut, he will be Pharaoh.”

What does Legend make of that?

“We can cheers to it.”