Khentiamentiu the Anukal

The wind howls along the burning desert sand. You readjust your summer goggles and wipe off the bloodred grains from the glass. The blistering sunlight is softened by billowing duststorms and the feeble wisps of clouds. In front of you laid an grave.

It's strange. This ancient civilization is known to make elaborate tombs for their most important dead. For the unimportant, they leave without a mark. This indent among the dunes is neither. Stranger yet, the duststorms seem to have avoided burying this completely.

"It is not your time." A chilling voice echos behind you. You whirl around and see a jackal headed...creature. While his body language is relaxed, he has a predator's gaze. Instead of a shadow, the shape of a scale is onto the sand behind him. He holds a feather in one clawed "hand", unmoving in the wind. "How did you get here?"

You pull your headscarf over your mouth when you speak. "I don't know. I think I got caught in quicksand." Indeed, in this strange, liminal space, you realize you don't have feet. The eyes of the canine was inscrutable, but his teeth glint even in the dim light.