Lion Head Mesa after while, crocodile

Senmut means to test her. Surely there is no other explanation for such… excessive orders!

Wildly she has taken to the papyrus, a half-burned stick in her mouth, drawing in charcoal rugged outlines. Should she begin with the mechanics, the functionality of the palanquin? It had to have some manner of back support, and adequate shade for Toula. Of course, storage for her to fit her things while they traveled would also be important.  Or are the looks most important? Afterall, it had to be elegant, but powerful! It had to say so much, but be little, in tandem!

A voice calls.

In her surprised raise of head the stick draws one long slash across the design. She panics and kicks the papers away, stowing them under the sweep of a ratty fur.

She breathes, composing herself, appearing under her doorframe with a smile.

“My Queen!” She greets in a bow then raises herself to look breathlessly between Toula and Tuna.