Lion Head Mesa scythe & grain

the crocodile would not slip so far from the outpost before he slyly called for @Legend. normally, it would be zaahira whom khusobek preferred to feed his gossip, but his choice of the prince's lover was tactical. besides, he told himself, they had done little together as mazoi outside the order of princes.

"he has sent me to update those who stayed," khusobek explained as they set a liquid jog down the steppes, to flatlands where twistgrass tussocks gave way to rich red earth which marked their paws once more. "and i say we should bring back meat and wine. those princes will kill each other before they have a chance to wed our queen."

jokes and jests died a cold death when khusobek noticed that akashingo's ground was layered with unfamiliar scent. he was at once attentive; in the mien of a guard drawing a dagger, he stalked tensely up the wide red road, searching for sentries.

who had come?

"the strangers will show themselves immediately," khusobek ordered in a loud baritone, stopping before the large stone steps, "or be judged as enemies of the queen."