Lion Head Mesa Chew you up and spit you out

khaba remained as unreadable as stone. qiao had anticipated that he might find southerners interesting -- for what deer grew without a winter pelt? there was much of the world qiao had yet to discover; harking back on her journey filled her with restive curiosity for the paths to come.

she could not tell if what this man spoke was a threat, or simply an over-indulgent sense of duty. she knew khaba poorly, and so, could draw little about his character. that is very kind of you. qiao turned from the shelf and strode to where sayf had made deerskins for her bed. there is one thing i need. her eyes rested on khaba in measuring interest.