Luneshale Pass arrival

Along Toula's side was the ever dutiful Inji, heeding every command; a flair of her own to her makeup to ensure she appears as divine as she ought to, water and meat and wine as she wished to keep her fed along their journey; and, of course, a path through the unknown well tended.
The saliva unconsciously dribbles from her chin as they course the lowlands, the last of summer's sting still felt greatly. But it was honest work, and if anything, it provided distraction. In truth, this event frightened her — it ate at her for weeks, months, the things that could unfold from this.
Pharaoh. Whoever would claim such title awaited them.
But this was her job; her calling, and so she does as asked. The fellahin do not have a place in politics.