Lion Head Mesa deshret

Mouseberry did not reveal herself to the others. But she was present, although entirely by accident;  therefore she might be seen, even despite hunkering behind some landscape item meant to obscure her. Whatever it was Mouseberry did not suss out except for its shape and size. It seemed enough.

Words; words of what they were, but nothing to follow from any. The voice belonged to who Mouseberry knew was Pharaoh. And then the sounds of departure. She would have liked to follow, but did not think it wise to move and be seen when she might not be seen at all.