Lion Head Mesa Mountain

The girl is a tripping hazard. Velcroing to her father's legs, she is quite pleased with herself whenever he staggers. It was a game of sorts, not that the girl would tell her father such. Her stick is kept neatly behind her canines. Her father speaks of new toys!

The girl queries past the stick, What would you bring, Baba? She moves to the outside of her father's forelegs. The mazoi banter within their chambers. Her eyes glance into the rooms as they pass, wide and attentive.

I am fine. It is quiet without Pharaoh. Her gaze turns to her father's face. Why aren't we hunting, Baba?