Lion Head Mesa oasis

Kasmut followed Tamar into the mesa, into the chambers where the scents of wolf and coyote mingled with that of berries and drink. The ghostly figure peered at each passing item with only a moment of interest. Her eyes always returned to the slender figure of Tamar, the warm colors that danced through the woman’s pelt and faded at her brown eyes.

Such a treasure, the white coyote thought.

When the two figures entered the room where Pharaoh sat with his people, Kasmut’s eyes belonged only to him. She stared at the sharpness of his features, the kohl that lined his riverlight eyes. He was a remarkable thing, a brilliant man to behold.

Pharaoh, your name is whispered in the sands of Khembe. I have come to you, a diamond of the sands.

Kasmut bowed her head, deep below her shoulders.