Shadowwyn Moor a stately pleasure dome decree

the girl will be pleased to know that she has succeeded in camouflaging herself. she is naught but part of the dirt to tashkent until she gets close enough that the movement in the mud is not normal; a growl begins in the princess's throat, but soon quiets as she realizes her 'enemy' is a young girl, less than a year, playing. tasha smiles, a low croon of greeting escaping her maw.

goodness, you scared me! she calls out, affecting some fright. you blend right in! she hops down from the hillock and strolls toward the youngster, tail wagging gently behind her. you would make a very good soldier, she commends, giving the girl a stiff nod as her eyes rake over her form. she needs a bath, more like, tasha wryly thinks. the enemy would never see you coming.

what is your name, qız? the barbarian asks, tilting her head in query.