Luneshale Pass --the overture--

the cat is fully powerplayable. the cat can be picked up, maimed, killed, or eaten. we're playing fast and loose w this one

cats accept our names.

but cats have names of their own.

cats go where they please.

and cats are not held by boundaries.

precise steps in sand churned by wolf-paw. their reek is heavy and harsh. the cat's wide eyes blink once and then they are off, tail uplifted, striding directly into the very heart of the lupine camp.

for cats have no fear if they believe they are blessed.

There was something striding about in the canyon.

A feline striding into view, as though this was their litter box. They were of the same ilk, a domestic dog and a domestic cat, neither were anyone would expect to find them.

Akhtar watched.

Out for a walk, Bastet-blessed? He would call seconds later, trying not to alert any of his more bitey brethren.

"mrow."

conversational. black tail lifted, a questioning curve in its end. the autumn-hued eyes give another slow blink. 

the cat sits. the tail wraps around its forepaws. 

the cat understands. blessed, the wolf says. but the cat does not respond, for the cat does not feel like responding.

Akhtar had never met a feline in person. He knew their faces, of course, had heard tales of them, but he had never expected to find one.

Especially not so far out here. The saluki tucked one paw over the other, tipping his head to the side to regard the black feline across the way from his rocky seat.

You’re a long way away from where I would expect. A lazy blink of brown eyes.

Any further and you might walk into someone’s teeth, little Bast. Many hungry mouths would salivate over a bite like you.

threats? to them?

leg lifts, scratches behind an ear nonchalantly.

let the teeth come.

the cat stands. they walk toward the doggish wolf and sniff delicately at rough paw.

tail a spire of black, sashaying deeper toward the others. they do not look back for him, only tilt an ear to listen.

The cat steps on fairy light paws, dancing across the sand with grace he wishes so desperately he actually had.

He chuffs a laugh around a mouth that felt like a beak, all of a sudden.

Alright, little Bast. Let us see if you have something to say. Our head priest would certainly welcome a voice of the gods. Akhtar moved from his perch, stepping behind the cat, matching his pace to their own.

they walk.

the cat sees more of the moving bodies. in the shadow of the talkative wolf there is a larger sense of safety.

the cat twines their paths together. a black flank presses briefly to a striding foreleg. the tail climbs it as if it were a trellis.

"mrow." 

the fall-gaze is searching for something in the starglow over the desert.

The rest of Akashingo is a banquet before their eyes. With Bast by his side, Akhtar walks as though he is Toth, tall and striding as a heron. A Fellahin passes him by and he gives them a little grin.

Little Bast. He hums to the creature walking in his generated shadow.

Would you like to speak to Senmut? Or are you after someone else? To deliver a blessed godling to the being their message was for was bound to get him some kind of boon, correct?

it was neither priest nor priestess, but Goddess they found—
her heart stirred wildly in her chest at the sight of Them! never had she seen something so darling, so divine as this! I truly will love Them, forever! and Toula, undecorated now, plucks a cardinal feather she had brought with her from the earth between her paws. the Queen makes way toward one priest and one of the Gods. her eyes flash to Akhtar with love and with gratitude. she was glad it was a priest to first receive Them!
she drops the feather ceremoniously before Bastet, the word itself a prayer to Them—and knew at once that in the pass, an altar must also be built. 

couldn’t help myself!

the dog man walks with the cat.

the cat walks as if every grain of sand belongs to their journey. 

someone is coming. obsidian hackles make to twitch, then soften. 

she is Someone. and with her she brings a gift. claws unsheathing, pupils dilating.

the cat leaps for the feather, kicking the thing and tossing it higher into the air.

As if summoned by mere thought, their Queen came across the sands. Akhtar smiled to her, welcoming her with a sway of his bannered tail.

Majesty. He drawled out to the girl, dipping his head down low.

They appear to enjoy your gift. I found them out in the canyon. Not too far, he didn’t say. Toula needed not know that he’d been practically den bound with the sun and the sand.

He’d never quite connected with his more heat resistant ancestors.

it seemed They enjoyed her gift, and Toula was all too grateful for her own instinct. perhaps it was God speaking to God, a higher sort of stream of consciousness she had no cognizance of. 
the way the God played with the feather endeared Toula to Them. she cooed without knowing it, utterly enchanted. we have a Goddess in our company, Hem. all must know that Bastet is safe among us, and that our journey is Godsblessed. we must build Her an altar, all this in a soft voice. I think our Bastet might like many more of these feathers, would you not? she all but sang. 
her eyes turned to Akhtar. it is no surprise Bastet first would find one so holy. your own paths, aligning. perhaps you two together are meant to ensure the evil spirits sent to us all fail, her eyes were bright with the thought—but… what do you think? 
Toula moved to bring them all into the shade, for now. she did not know if Bastet would love the heat—nor Akhtar!

the feather, clutched.

spiked tongue feels the small red hairs, mind satisfied. 

the croon draws attention. the wolves are talking about them. the cat knows when they are adored, and so after arching once more against the one called a priest, they approach the second.

younger. soft. a wolf, but a wolf who looks at them with round eyes and offers gifts.

the cat is cunning. they lie down upon the sand and flash a hint of their belly, their chest with its white patch.

they know they are beautiful.

Toula was a pleasant creature to talk to, always had been from the moment her tongue could form speech. Akhtar smiled, serene, as he watched the cat play with the feather.

Oh yes. I think your gift is a smash hit, and who knows? Perhaps she would like even more. A slow roll of a wink. Toula continued, speaking of evil spirits sent to disrupt their path. Oh, he remembered the wrath that had come upon them all that time ago but..

Akhtar had a wicked little idea. And somewhere behind his eyes, a wicked little grin began to shape, that wicked little heart that lurked inside the priest snapping at the idea like a caged dog to meat dangled overhead. But this was not something to rush, this wicked little babe of an idea. He must let it grow, let it fester. Use this new creature to his advantage.

Oh what a wonderful thing wicked ideas were.

But of course, my dear. Perhaps she is here to fortify our connections to the gods, or to ward off those dastardly evils. Protection, in our journeys. Mayhaps Toth will have something to say of that effect, I will attempt to divine with him tonight. And a waiting game began with the crack of a starting pistol.

the Queen could have died, at how darling this little thing was! and she felt chosen, too, as They made Their way toward her! she might have cried as They flopped to the earth before her—she gasped with her delight! 
and her eyes turned to Akhtar, smiling as he agreed, listening to his own ideas eagerly. his word, now more than ever, legitimized by the approval and company of Bastet.
please do, she urged happily, still smiling. Bastet and Akhtar combined had put her in the best of moods! I will see what foods might delight our Bastet, she starts, deliver to all that we have a God amongst us—and that They are our guest. perhaps you might like to lead a welcoming ceremony? her eyes were bright, but the words were only a suggestion—should he not wish to, she would not push! it only felt that this all was special, was meant, and she wanted to thank the Gods!

the girl wolf speaks.

the dog man heeds.

the cat feels the tone of his voice, and it is polite toward the girl wolf. the cat rises, flicking sand and debris from its coat, and arches along her legs.



the cat is hungry. they can hunt any number of things: mice. lizards. snakes. birds. but instead they raises luminous eyes toward the young creature respected by the other wolf.

"mrowl."

Delight suffuses him, the childish joy of experiencing a friendly cat making him grin. Dark plans pushed to the back of his mind, he gives Toula a great grin to see little Bast has chosen her legs to rub against.

Food seems to be on their agenda. He commented idly, watching the scene with a smile tugging on his lips. With a low sweep of his leg, he lowers his chest to the earth, eyeing the cat with an expectant sort of look.

I would love to do such. I will begin planning immediately, and until such, I will see if I can find our friend here a comfortable spot to sleep. A shoulder offered, as though he were a barge.