Lion Head Mesa She makes the sound

An hour before dawn he’d awakened with a craving for his wife, and rather than persuade her sleeping form roughly from her dreams, had escaped to the lowlands to cast his energies into a hunt.

The morning was deep and a grey mist hung thickly over their hunting grounds. The riverking coursed over the trail of a cape hare like a hungry shadow. But it was an opportunistic vulture which fell prey to his jaws, and whose fine honey plumage would make a handsome complement to his woman.

The slain fowl was presented atop a bounty of other riches, all offerings and blessings for the newly wedded gods. Rashepses slunk into their bedchamber to take pleasure in watching @Toula’s lithe, sleeping form.

After a pause he began to touch her, lightly, pressing the flesh of his lips to the peak of her hip.

“Bahka nofer, my fair one,” he stirred her, feeling a surge of protective possession.