Lion Head Mesa A Felicidade

The letter, again. Semer-wati had exercised great patience. But the maids of Muat-riya would not forget who it was they served. No fellahin, hebsut or otherwise, would take precedence over their Gods.

Kem seemed to agree, the way he batted out his dominion. He was ready for the world to listen.

“So he does,” a grin spread across the father’s lips to match the breadth of his son’s ferocity, “the mightiness of Montu runs in his blood.” Ivories mouthed the pups’ strong paws, his prince spun from ambrosia and obsidian cradled proudly between his arms.

When Toula leaned in, he caught her lips with his own, deepening their kiss. He lived in these private hours with his family.

"What do you suppose she dreams of, Iset?" The man asked in a murmur, clearing his wife's cheek with his tongue as they gazed down upon their alabaster daughter.