Lion Head Mesa glory & garbling

The beet-red dog's cries of shame and embarrassment—because really no, please don't look at him and he honestly was fine and should probably have just been left there—were cut short as Khusobek scooped him up as though extracting a very disgruntled cat from the tub it had slipped into. I lost that some time ago, I fear, the half-breed sniffed, smoothing down his soggy fur, then gesturing explanatorily, The rock fell out from under me.

Khusobek was offered what little remained in the other bowl, although that too was now hardly more than a sip. And what is this nonsense of, my sweet? the dog asked, mischief alight in his eyes, I'm afraid my absence has left you bold and mistaken, he tutted, I'm sure you'll find me well spiced, Machi teased, raising an arm dripping with wine.

But he cleared his throat then, expression growing somewhat sickly, I was hoping to begin our reunion in quite a different manner, but alas, tis the way of the universe, a light joke as he shifted uncomfortably, I did not know of your arrival, or I would have found you sooner—I wanted to apologize. You trusted me to care for Safiya, and—I failed. That is an error I will never be able to rectify.