Lion Head Mesa Hear them mumblin' low

It’s not at eye-level, but feet; a rounded fluffy oddity generated for decoration and all iterations of the word ‘cute’.

Teeth are a feature, nose holes and giant eye sockets so sunken and glistering low yet lively in halls that chattered with a speech heavily accented in the darkness.

With a ruffle of feather and a stare most intrigued he pools into the little dog’s hallway.

“Hrw nfr, master. Please, call me Sutekh,” He dips his darkened crown before reveling again at the refined little man. "And who do I have the honor of speaking with?"