Luneshale Pass which door do we open?

Maybe he wasn’t as smart as he thought, because he couldn’t make sense of the next several words out of her mouth. He didn’t move a muscle; he didn’t have to look to know there were no other wolves of prairie or standard varieties around them. This wasn’t remarkable, in his experience, and what did it have to do with anything?

While Talis tried to parse that, she named her price. It was so absurd, he laughed out loud. The sound nearly drowned out her statement about his corpse. He stared until his pale eyes grew grainy, realizing she was either very serious or an incredibly talented actor.

I’ll, he replied, meaning to say, I’ll take my chances, and then very likely leave.

He didn’t believe there was any real danger. It wasn’t possible to poison running water. But something about the word “servitude” intrigued him in an entirely inexplicable way. It felt like the very marrow of Talis’s bones was vibrating with some queer energy. His pupils visibly dilated as he thought of his dad’s tales about Shardul, the cougar god who had enslaved his great grandmother.

This spry woman was nothing like a mountain lion, though this peculiar sensation singing in his blood combined with his quiet desperation for companionship prompted Talis to ask, And what does that look like, exactly?