Sun Mote Copse Eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats

It was in the old tongue in which he prayed. The language of this place and of the wolves who inhabited it -- it was too uncivilized to offered as praise to the many-armed God. His mumblings had a poetic rhythm and a song-like timbre, but his concentration was soon torn away by a sound from behind. He stopped, opened his eyes, and turned his face to see a stranger.

She resembled the sisters whom he followed, but had not traveled with them from Canaan's Tophet. She bore their scent, but it was faint. She was unfamiliar; and though possibly a newly inducted female of the Malkaria, Ar-Khalba regarded her with caution. However, his eyes trailed down to the offering she brought to the shrine. Had she come to worship as well?

"Have you come to praise the many-armed God?" He asked, curious of her intent at the shrine. Had she been a sister, he would have skirted away to make room for her to worship, but in Khalba's eyes she was unproven.