Lion Head Mesa the serpent goddess

@Qiao don't mind me -- i will forever make you threads w/o warning ;P

Over the week that passed after robbing the witch of her ensorcelled meal, Leshen could not put the flavors or that wolf out of his head.

He spent day after day gathering owl pellets, and because he could not count, he wound up collecting a surplus of nineteen pellets in total. His humbled offering to the spice goddess. Daily, he spirited each regurgitated mass to a small hidey hole in the snow that lay just beyond the border of the flat-topped mountain he had tracked her to; his spot chosen along a lane she seemed to traffic more than others.

He waited by his covered treasures, an hour or so each morning, and he would disappear each time he saw anyone that was not her coming along the well-worn path leading out of the mesa. This day was the same – waiting, watching, hungry for both forgiveness and another hit of her addicting rations.

i see you have returned. qiao's wizened head rose, eyes glinting cold as icewater. she'd seen leshen's distorted figure scurry in and out of perception as the fellahin took to their early morning routes, and had taken it upon herself by mid-morning to investigate.

he looked hungry. hungrier than the day he'd scored his own cursed trinket from the priestess. good. if the pharaoh knew of your wickedness, he would dress you up and make an example of your woodkept hide. why are you here?

she did not smell the regurgitated pellets which lingered just out of detection, an aroma that would have set her thin coat ablaze.

At last.

The snake withered beneath the witch’s embittered scrutiny. Leshen had done wrong – I repent! – and he was starved for her mercy. He crouched, tail wriggling in shame as she threatened him with a looming bounty for his hide. He did not know the word pharaoh, but he did not need to.

It also did not escape him that she had not reviled him as a villain just yet.

Slowly, Leshen used a forepaw to unearth the grave of his offering to the sorcerer goddess. He gestured to the obscured pocket of pellets in the snow, then scampered away many leaps to give her unencumbered reign of the gift. He turned to observe her reception of it from afar, his dark face brightened by a feral captivation.

the scoundrel did not speak, yet his actions screamed his shame and begged for mercy.

for a long time qiao stared down her thin muzzle in contempt at this figure. 

but that odor! her eyes lit, watching as the snake pulled from his patch of snow and revealed his cards. qiao counted in disbelief: one, two, six, ten, more than a dozen owl pellets plied neatly in the snow. her olive eyes widened -- first in greed, and then in scrutiny.

is this your peace offering, thief? she reigned in every part of her that screamed to snatch these things from the snow, to call sayf and the mazoi and set this man's reckoning upon him.

yet... a thought intrusively wove its way around her in the constricting manner of a colubrid. qiao seemed to immediately settle, her eyes becoming hooded.

Not fashioned as the type for any sense of remorse, let alone an apology, this was a special occasion for Leshen – perhaps even the only one of its kind. He wanted more, whatever this witch would give him, and he knew he must appeal to her, should he want a share in her blessings.

There was the risk – always a risk – that she would turn on him the second he let his guard down or that she simply would not gamble with accepting his presence. He had earned such coldness, after all, and he thought of this as she stared down her muzzle at him, her gaze boring hatefully through his skull.

But the snake, ever poised to strike, felt himself uncoil for her.

Hard, artichoke eyes flitted away from him and down to his offering. Her expression changed, briefly, filling the thief with a glimpse of a fool’s paradise. She returned a cold look to him, along with a question. Leshen shifted on his feet and gave her a single nod.

Just then, her forward posture eased somewhat, and she regarded him with shadows over her eyes. His head tilted, questioningly, and he gestured towards the pile. More? His body angled itself to return to the woods at her command.

profound greediness overcame qiao. she fought back its blackened clawing, breathing deep between her nose. 

leshen seemed to uncoil before her; and the spoils he’d gotten! she bent to pick each of them up in her deerskin if he’d allow. meanwhile one redcupped ear kept to his person at all times. 

wait here. qiao instructed, taking what pellets she could. if she did not see future use in this scoundrel, she would have taken his peace offering and fucked off to the red keep, leaving him as empty handed as he’d done to her. 

as it was, qiao had other plans. she returned with a strip of meat in her pouch. this dried chunk carried many of the same spices in its scent, yet a heady, almost sweet odor prevailed between the tang of cured flesh and salt. 

qiao offered the strip to leshen. there was enough poison in it that in a few hours’ time he would be curled around his stomach in agony. 

but it would not kill him.  

if he ate it, qiao would consider the transaction complete and his debt paid — but he would learn, hopefully, that she was not to be trifled with.

The serpent wolf watched with covetous eyes, drawing his tongue over his lips, as the red-capped seer collected her gift. He made no sound and moved naught but his head to observe their surroundings, making sure they remained alone.

Wait.

He obeyed, crouching down to lie in a sphinx position until she returned.

Leshen perked up when she did, toting a tear of spiced meat which she set before him. He hesitated, this time making sure that it belonged to him before advancing on the potent offering. This one smelled much like the last one, apart from a whiff of something sweeter, a promise of something torturously delicious.

He inhaled the appetizing scents, none the wiser, and then scarfed it down hungrily.

Once every bit of dried remnant was licked from the snow and heartily swallowed, he looked to the witch with a slight wag of his tail and a curious tilt of his skull. His expression said he was eager for more; more cured food or another task, it did not matter.

qiao’s expression did not change as she watched the male eat her offering. 

good. 

she appreciated the brief hesitance, recognizing then that an unspoken pact had been drawn between them. to this she raised her paw and spoke a quiet incantation, ending with a stamp in the snow. 

you have been poisoned. she remarked in a manner almost clinical. in a half hour’s time you will become violently ill. but you will not die.

she leaned forward, her hackles bladed and eyes hard. never steal from me again. 

qiao drew forth a bolus of greenery from her pouch. to denote it was not poisoned, she took a chunk of it between her teeth and swallowed. eat this tomorrow, it will assay your pain. come find me when you are fit for work.

You have been poisoned.

Leshen’s ears fell and his teeth shone in an ugly, twitching grimace. He hated her in that instant, and hated himself more for trusting her. A growl was building in his chest, savage and vengeful…

But you will not die.

These words processed slowly; the dial-up internet sound screeched in his head. His dire fear ebbed, taking his retaliatory anger with it, and the hideous snarl of hatred that had crawled up his throat suddenly quieted and slid back into the pit of his polluted gut. He looked up into the cold gems of her eyes, feeling crushed beneath the weight of her decree. He understood why he was being punished.

He understood why he was being spared.

The serpent wolf watched as she placed something else before him, which he reflexively shied from as if burned. Once bitten. A narrowed red gaze followed her as she took a piece of the medicine and demonstrated to him that it was not dangerous. His trust was but a thread at this point, yet he was wise enough to know when he had been bested. This offering would either be the nail in his coffin or his saving grace. He hardly thought it mattered at that point.

Snatching up the large green pellet, Leshen gave the witch a single beat-long glare before turning and skittering off into the distant wood. He wanted only to find a gravesite in that moment, to prepare himself for a night-long death.

leshen's gaze hardened in hatred. qiao withstood the vengeful glare with patience.

many men -- and some women -- had looked upon her in such a way. some in their final moments.

but he was being spared. she hoped he knew it was not out of the generosity of her own heart -- they were beasts that each brought each other something. their relationship could be symbiotic, if given time.

she remained for some time after leshen snatched the bolus and made camp elsewhere. that last look burned in her memory -- the way he'd parted with a glare that would have withered her long ago, if she had not died already.