Broken Antler Fen grow back your sharpest teeth

Her pace is halted, head thrown over shoulder with the whipping of fel winter winds.

“I need Machiavelli safe,” Eset counters, pushing close into Meseba once more. More than mist glazes her eyes, there is pure desperation there.

“If you have any respect for your hebsut... if you have any– love, for me, you will do as I have ordered,” her voice is strangled, guilty, to knowingly play against his affections. She is cruel, and worse is that in the moment she does not care to be kind, so long as she is listened to. Her paws grapple for another step.

“I am Pharaoh’s, no harm will come to me. Do not ask me to wait.”