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.