Lion Head Mesa govind bolo hari, gopal bolo

dated to 12/22

he sucked in all the emotions and then some as he departed brecheliant, thanking the wolves there for their hospitality and trying not to cast a second glance back at ani. poor ani. but not exactly, because she had found a family here.

he hoped tytonidae would be satisfied with that.

his travels brought him along the outskirts of a mesa and he sniffed, interest piqued, until one scent in particular brought him upright, fur bristling.

@Ramesses.

it had been—how long since he'd seen the young sage? they'd bonded quickly, but circumstances had forced them apart. and he'd barely spared a thought for the golden man, but now. . .

he howled, nose tipped back, mouth tugging backward in a smile of surprise and of awe.

he had gone out of doors to seek Amun's council. he did not understand what now to do; he did not like being lost.
aditya's howl broke the man from his thoughts. he blinked in the direction of the tiny figure far across the red sand.
ramesses descended the top of the mesa. it took many minutes but soon without guard or servant he stood before the aged prophet. "long life to you, aditya."

apparently, aditya replied, giving a shrug of his shoulders, which grew more bony by the day. his eyes, though, held the same humor as they always had, glimmering toward the enigmatic priest as he grew nearer.

is this your home, pharaoh? he continued, gesturing with his muzzle over the whole of the mesa.

he'd done well for himself, if so. the smell of pharaoh was pungent, inseparable from this pack. he was clearly, by scent and by stature, a leader here.

aditya was pleased to see it.

"all of it, my good friend," ramesses said in a delight that was a relief to feel. "Amun also saw fit to grant me five children this year."
he looked at the old man, saw the travelwear around him. "come and eat and drink with me, aditya. i will have my servants bathe and massage you, and you shall sleep in a fine bed tonight." his lazuli eyes were bright.

his lips split in a wide, pleased smile. pharaoh had been pious, and determined, and it was only fitting that the gods had blessed him with this abode. and to the man to offer hospitality—!

i'll take it, aditya replied. shukriya, yaar. i came to find my longlost daughter, and now need to find her mother, to tell her that she's safe. . .

it was convoluted even as he said it. he laughed. i'm so glad to see you. and to know that you've made a family of your own.

he gave a brief bow to the golden leader, eyes cast down in appreciation.

"if you stay even for a time, i shall help you with a messenger," pharaoh offered grandly. 
the wellspring was rather frigid this time of year, but aditya might notice the absence of snow upon sand, how the mesa seemed protected by a minute warmth even in the pale blight.
down below, servants and guards crossing paths with bows and murmurs of respect, winding scarlet hallways until they came to his throne room, where pharaoh ordered delicate haunches of rabbit, the breast of a sparrow, tubers dug from beneath the earth, and the pine liquor treated with a gentle hint of opium, to warm the veins.
all laid upon the eating mats, jawahir arching their hips beneath the eyes of the aged prophet as they departed with the others. "you may have anyone you like sent to your rooms," pharaoh revealed, sitting to their meal and ignoring the fact of aditya's presumed wife!