god. she sneers with tight lips.

then he is pushing her, and imenet must take to knuckles and feet, else greet the dirt again. still she glances at him out the corner of one forward-facing eye. hateful.

water. it was dryness which tightened her lips. all at once she becomes aware of how empty her body is. a hand goes to the tuck of her belly, aware that nothing is in it.

odd, that only now this comes to her.

she turns herself on knuckles to face the oryx - nakhtmin, if she must use his name. to her, his horns are a far cruder tool. and yet, with her chin defiantly lifted, a curl creeps over imenet's snout. she pictures herself astride this burdenous beast, a horn in each fist, fingers slotted between the gaps in the bands of gold.

if you insist. her smile is for herself mostly. imenet makes to board the oryx.

---

unfort, she has no other name to pick from. she seethes <3

Skill - Ranger 4/5

At last! He would not complain about the efforts to secure the ba— Imenet thus far. It had been a worthy trial and he was proud of the accomplishment. But nonetheless it was better for her health and far more expeditious to have her astride him. He knelt to ease her passage.

Once she had seated, he stood in a great lurch, stamping a hind foot and swishing his tail. I will run quickly, now, so be sure of your grasp!

To the oasis upon the edge of the sands, then, in the shadow of great trees and greater mountains. He knew the way, and there could be no surprises on dune or scrub or sandstone waste to him — such was his domain. He needed no wings to fly across it.

Nakhtmin was a bull of his word, and set off at full gallop within precious few strides. She weighed little atop him, less than nothing! And he could run for many miles without tiring. If her grip was half as sure of itself as her tongue, she would not fall, and he would not have to slow.

If less so, and she fell into the sand again, he would laugh.

---

SO sorry about the delay!

she mounts him like it's habit. palm on the hump, and she swings her leg over his back. smug, she then takes each horn into a hand. this is how it should be.

when the beast rights itself though, imenet realizes she has no control. she holds on not to direct him, but to not roll off, short legs having no grip.

she tries to bargain;

can't you-

but he is off - and with him, she.

it is a miserable, bouncing journey, which has imenet hooting in pain whenever nakhtmin leaps or descends too suddenly. the plains are a blur. the plains throw dust in her face. she decides to spit it at her mount - it flies into her eyes.

nakhtmin does not get his comedy until they've stopped. she'd wish it a dismount, but in truth the change in speed takes the last of imenet's balance, and the horns slip from her fists as the ground greets her.

she lands in a heap, legs over head, making miserable little sounds. pain is everywhere.

---

<333333333

Skill - Ranger 5/5

Sandgrouse kwee'd in a nervous flock, abandoning the effort to soak water into breastfeathers and flee at the sudden disturbance.

With a bugle of unrestrained amusement, Nakhtmin circled her, a velvety nose nudging unkempt hair. You will look better once you have bathed, Imenet! Do not be ashamed that the wind has tousled you so in the wake of my running. Even the mighty wolves do struggle to keep sand from their fur.

But not oryx. His shoulders quivered and he shook himself into an appreciable upkeep of appearance. Lifting his head again, he smiled at the oasis they had arrived beside. Greater and greater lakes would appear as they came closer to marshland, but this was one of appreciable size suitable to the purpose of saving Imenet from desiccation.

Having decided that perhaps they were not in danger after all, the sandgrouse returned in babbling formation.

In the far distance, the tips of trees had begun to make themselves known. Conifers like any other from here, and one would mistake them for being closer if they knew not better. But he had seen that to walk among them was to admire the work of giants. They grew to touch the heavens, and rain was plentiful between their branches.

Further still, the greyed hint of mountains. And there, the Pharaoh.

But now, a rest for his charge.

Sate yourself. I will keep watch for lions.

wolves. she mutters, dislodging her face from the divot it had made in the dust. lions. she sneers, but it is without bite and fades fast. imenet pushes herself up.

which will your pharaoh feed me to, once we're there?

there is no trust in her. yet, she finds her mind empty of alternatives. pharaoh is not a person at this point, but a direction. it gives focus. stays the migraines.

she drags herself to the water, and looks to gauge cleanliness.

gasps. pulls back.

slowly, returns and looks again.

but there is only a black-haired beast looking back. the other one, naked and pale-skinned, is gone.

she did not like his eyes.

they looked like empty sockets after fluid vacates.

The water is free of large crocodiles. But if one attempted to steal you, I would slay them regardless, so have no fear! Nakhtmin called, walking up behind her when he noticed the apparent shock. And desert snakes do not hide beneath waters, only sands.

Beholding his own reflection, asymmetrical patterns of black and white rippling beside the uniformity of her own, Nakhtmin grinned. Mirrored face turned toward hers beneath them. Hmm, or is it your own visage you recoil at? I do not think the damage irreparable. Why, I have bathed after battles which had me covered in gore, almost unrecognizable, and then —

Well, perhaps this was not polite topic of conversation for the unbloodied. She did not have the countenance of a warrior. She acted more a nebet, haughty with presumed inheritance. An appeal to vanity, then, That is, a little sand is no serious detriment! And water will return your fur to its proper shape.

disconcerting thoughts regarding the man-beast she beheld in the waters are bucked out of imenet's skull by her travel companion.

she nocks and shoots a side eye laced with every kind of venom she could conceive. it misses the target, and she turns to now look at the oryx looking at her in the water.

loves to hear himself speak, she thinks, digging nails into caked sand. she knew plenty men like that, who live only to accumulate boasts. hot air and empty heads. were his skull hollow, nakhtmin would be a lantern.

imenet feels the early onset of a migraine, and furiously fights it back by dipping both palms into the water, banishing any vexing shades. she splashes her face. the water is surprisingly not lukewarm at all, and imenet blows through her meaty lips, feeling the shock.

but she does not stop. with ten nimble digits, she washes her countenance in detail. every crevice, slicking back hair, and then lower. she scrubs the sand off her body, stiffing a sound of pain when she feels the sore spot blunt teeth had chafed raw. this insistently wordless cleaning - she will feign deafness if any conversation is started - goes nearly to her equally nimble feet, when she decides she's cooled enough.

one foot then another, imenet waddles into the water, until she's to the knees. the mud is cool as her toes grip it. she lets out a very equine nicker, standing still, each hand gripping opposite forearm.

she looks off in the distance, where nakhtmin did too.

what does he want with me? she asks out the blue. doesn't bother elaborating. whether her companions-captor understands or is confused, she'd be pleased.

"were his skull hollow, nakhtmin would be a lantern"
nakhtmin says its very nice of you to compare his mind to a light like Ra's. quite flattering!

---

Yes! He praised, as she splashed herself the first time, You already look much more refined. A genuine attempt to flatter her into a better mood, though one which perhaps fell flat.

He wished then that Osiris were here. Neferseba was a gentle and kind young goddess, and easy to tend both by handservant and guard. But Nakhtmin knew his counterpart in the care of the heiress was far more adept at turn of phrase in moments of challenge. Where soothing wounded pride was concerned, the cat was far better suited.

But Nakhtmin would persevere! He had been appointed this task.

And Imenet now was busy, which saved him the trouble of nannying her like a fawn.

As she bathed, he lifted his head again, and stayed on watch for lions. Grin drooped into a more dour grimace at the thought of the beasts (those besides Osiris, of course, whom Nakhtmin hardly considered a lion at all.) Opportunistic cowards, beasts of ambush, never a fair fight! The scars of their claws and teeth marked his hide as much or more than oryx rivals — each proclaiming a victory for him, in the end, as he yet drew breath.

That was his domain. Bloody battle and steadfast defense! Words to inspire allies and cower enemies upon the field. He gave himself over to daydreaming of matches past, wherein he proved his mettle to onlooking gods.

At Imenet's question, he blinked free of the rumination. Hmm?

---

failed that perception roll again good job Nakhtmin :D