Kintla Flatlands Dirty vibe

Had the wolf paid closer attention to the carcass, he would have noticed a lack of internal organs; Lecter had stuffed the muskrat with a mixture of herbs and bones, and its head was not present. A fetish, to test the Plateau, and it would release its power in a variety of ways. But words arced out toward him, and Lecter shook his head with deliberate slowness, given the distance between them.

I am not hurt, and I want little from you, the shaman called, prancing a mad little dance in the grasses of the flatlands. You need have no fear of me, or for me, Lecter added. Only my gifts. Salmon tongue lashed his lips and he waited to see what the other would do, or would say; the shadow had surprised him today.

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