Duck Lake What's this, what's this?

Zoratto's ears pressed back as the wolf spoke in another tongue. Such a thing was unheard of to him; sure he knew slaves spoke multiple tongues, but those were slaves, they were expected to know Dotharan, but no one really cared what else they knew. It made the superstitious young man wary; was this a maegi? Had he just been cursed? Svabol rinov tija wux tepohada filki rechan acht ve, si charis wux dispell coi quickly, maegi. He hissed. Regardless of what tongue he spoke, surely this one knew how to read body language.

Instead, he grew closer, this maegi. He sat just before the water's edge, staring at him. And he nodded in greeting. Zoratto shifted his body to look more menacing, his eyes narrowed, distrustful. He gave a curt, unfeeling nod in return, and prayed to the Great Bison and the Great Stallion that he was not cursed by this warlock.