Firestone Hot Springs silence can mock

“”

He had not expected the gunmetal Warden to trust so blindly, and watched with a cold expression upon his face as the salmon tongue of the other darted out toward the undoubtedly bitter brew Lecter had concocted. When Njal surfaced, sputtering, the shaman met his eyes, extending a forepaw to drag the shell back toward him. He would not wait for the effects to take hold in the other; he had carefully measured how much of the liquid the other Creek wolf had drunk, and would not consume as much.

Lapping at the 'tea' himself, albeit briefly, Lecter settled his haunches upon the ground and gazed past the hostile eyes of the Warden. He did not know how the man would fare, but he would not have it said that he poisoned the Warden, and so he would stay, to monitor Njal's forced progress through the land of spirits.

At length, Lecter returned his eyes to the gunmetal face. “ What do you see?” the shaman muttered softly; perhaps he meant the cold attention of the other toward him, or perhaps it was a deeper message he sought to convey, seeking the inexorable dilation of Njal's pupils and the relaxation of his body into the arms of the Gods.