Sun Mote Copse bitter melodies turning your orbit around

arunik'ra worked the composition of the bough she stood stradled over, her thin teeth shearing lines in the brittled surface. she looked up and saw asherah, molech's supplicant -- and a thin, rare smile sparsely filled her muzzle. she sat upright and studied the skull the she-wolf proffered; it was a befitting and honorable gift.

"a fine gift for the god of light," the priestess canted, pulling from the small heap she had created. "molech will be pleased."