Lion Head Mesa mariposa

belen crossed the threshold, the pelts she carried deposited close to where qiao often slept. the hemet gave a slight tilt of her long muzzle in wordless thanks.

this creature was more lovely than the others; her face framed in rich cream which gave warmth to the otherwise cool grey complexion. not for the first time did qiao notice a similarity here among those in ramesses' court. my thanks, belen. qiao's gaze flickered past. perhaps you can be of assistance -- how well do you know the woods outside akashingo's keep?