Luneshale Pass Saltanatın oğulları

Samirseti’s smile spread slow and deliberate, revealing the sharp glint of his teeth as molten gold eyes met burning crimson. The name—Benim—rolled pleasantly off his tongue in silence, though he made no effort to repeat it. He didn’t need to know the meaning to know it was good. His gaze sparkled with a predatory gleam, sharp and hungry, like a hunter savoring the first scent of his prey.

"So I shall be."

Without a word, Samir began to move. His slender frame slipped into motion, circling the other wolf with languid, fluid steps, mirroring the same inspection he’d been subject to moments ago. This was no idle mimicry—it was a quiet reclamation of control, a proclamation of who stood at the helm of their exchange. His movements were purposeful, his posture poised yet unrelenting, like a serpent tightening its coils around an unsuspecting quarry.

As Samir came closer, he allowed his side to brush deliberately against the smaller wolf’s, a slow action designed to leave his mark, his scent mingling with the other’s. It wasn’t just a statement of dominance; it was a calculated act, a subtle declaration that he intended to be remembered, even after this moment had passed. When his tongue flicked out to rasp along the back of the wolf’s ear, the act was as much a display of confidence as it was a challenge, though his expression betrayed none of his thoughts.

“I come from Ta-Senet,” Samir began, his voice low and smooth, carrying the lilt of distant lands. “A river kingdom to the south, nestled between life and the gods' will. I am here to serve council to my uncle, Semer-Wati Rashepses, King of Akashingo.”

Then, with a faint tilt of his head, his tone dipped into something quieter, more serpentine. “Does that turn you away from me, nefer?”