Lion Head Mesa safflower

It was evidently so unknown by the mazoi why she drew so close, even so as to press her nose unto his shoulder. Had she been searching for something, or was it a simple gesture of some kind?
But as she pulled away, the satisfaction in her gaze dismissed the query in its entirety. Khaba felt something then that he had before. Belonging. The amiirad had no words, but albeit, she needed none for him to sense this.
Backing up a step or two, tail swaying in warning, the beast lowered his bulk and hovered over the ground until his belly eventually sunk entirely. This had been the same indication of his loyalty and respect for Ramesses, and now he presented it to her. His full submission. 
Just as he had become a servant by choice to the pharaoh, he now had for the great one's child. None else would have this honor, this obedience. To their command, there would be questioning or hesitance. As was the definition of a true, loyal soldier. A mazoi at his finest.