Rosewater Oasis a brother calls

samir approaches like the rising sun over the horizon. he does not hurry, but his pace speaks of authority.

his molten gaze locks onto the stranger, dissecting him with an intensity that betrays no aggression, only curiosity edged with caution.

the scent of mourning lingers, a sorrowful undertone to the howl that had summoned him. when he stops, the pharaoh's shadow stretches long against the sand.

who trespasses upon vahanet's sacred sands? he intones.