mirror of fate

""

Xi'nuata had granted him more freedom than he had previously expected, though the vague feeling of relief was somewhat overshadowed by Raheerah's dislike of him. He did not care about the personal aspect of the Dragon's disdain, but rather what it perhaps meant for the Creek, though the Vale woman had assured him that the barter he had struck was upon his head alone.

He was intrigued to find that he cared for Fox and her wolves, despite her lack of foresight in the case of the Vale. Perhaps in his days at the side of Nanuq and Koios, Lecter would have seen Fox as weak and worthy of his disdain, perhaps even his curses — but, as he had murmured to Jinx, change was possible, even for an accursed old witch such as himself.

Now he sought out the tired scent-thread of the Vale's former leader. Through Xi'nuata had the shaman received a list of the injured, and while their healer had demanded his first attentions, it was the monk who had held his mind. Lecter had not known of such a sect before; his life had been divided into sections of light and of darkness, of Sos and of Atka. He did not understand the ways of monkhood, and his interest had not mounted.

With a mouthful of ironically plucked sage and wild geranium, the madman found the snowy beast alongside a small body of water, his back bent in what could have been contemplation or sadness. Setting the plants at his own paws, Lecter gave a low sound of approach.