Sly Fox Sand Dunes stairway to neterikhet

She carries herself with the same ghostly poise that he'd once thought was singular to Pharoah, and as she nears he wonders again if he has come upon a spirit, or a wolf.
He does not linger on the thought as she asks of an oasis. The oasis. He is well-versed with the location. Eyes on the inside, if you will. His tail flicks at the mention.
There is hesitation, or maybe something more like assesment in his gaze. Trust was something uneasy, but Nokht was not about to be disrespectful to this stranger. She did not carry the scent of that place or its people. That alone smoothed the fur of his spine.
I do. I can take you there, if you like. He finally speaks, a timid quietness to his voice as he shifts his stance, turning to look south, the breeze a gentle caress to his heat-worn fur. You will have our hospitality.
Did he know that for sure? He knew it was what was right, at least. Pharoah surely would not turn her away, and Nokht could catch her a fish, if any protested to an extra mouth.