Luneshale Pass which door do we open?

qiao fixed the goldspun male with her most frigid stare; one that conveyed beyond all doubt she was truthful.

of course, even that was a lie — he was a loner, and she’d found that those on the road were particularly desperate, which often made them of particular use to her.

she ignored his jab at a joke. if nothing else, qiao committed to a bit. look around you. do you see many wolves? she canted her muzzle to the innocent stream, silently indicating its complicity. my price is your servitude. take it, or don’t. your corpse could be equally as useful.

with this the priestess began to collect her wares, one slender ear turned back to the sorrel-pointed male.