Sun Mote Copse The flesh is weak

Ragna frowned at his explanation. Do not call me that, she said, feeling comfortable enough in her position to tell him as much. This man seemed to be woefully uninformed, and Ragna took it upon herself to correct his misunderstandings. Eshamun has no mate. None of us do. That is not Molech's will. There was much she still had to learn about Molech, but she felt secure in preaching at this man if she had to.

His sudden, uproarious laughter made Ragna scowl and her skin heat with embarrassment. What had she said? He offered no explanation, and she watched through narrowed eyes as he retrieved what seemed to be an innocuous white flower. It was lovely to those that appreciated such things, and Ragna misunderstood his intent and reared back in embarrassment. She took the flower to be a gift, a token of affections! Yet even when he spoke her lip curled in distaste and her original suspicion died. Poison is a cowards weapon, spat the Shieldmaiden, dismissive.