Sly Fox Sand Dunes stairway to neterikhet

Shiruyeh watched with a slow, steady gaze, her stance relaxed yet poised. She expected his hesitation; wariness was only natural when faced with the unknown. Still, when he spoke of an oasis, something flickered in her golden eyes, a faint glimmer of intrigue. Water; a reprieve for her aching paws.
With a languid stretch, she straightened, the motion fluid and unhurried, as if the world itself moved at her pace. „How generous,” she purred, her head tilting slightly, appraising him now with newfound interest. „I’ll take you up on that.” She stepped closer, deliberate and measured, „Hospitality is a rare treasure these days.” A wistful sigh left her lips, though it carried no real sorrow; just the weight of memories she did not care to relive.
The dust man was well-mannered, polite in a way few were anymore; a rare breed. With a subtle flick of her tail, she signaled her willingness to follow, but not before tapping her nose lightly against his shoulder; a silent prompt, a feline-like gesture of amusement. „And what name does such a courteous young man go by?” she inquired, voice smooth as silk, her gaze sharp beneath the veil of warmth.