Lion Head Mesa the serpent goddess

the scoundrel did not speak, yet his actions screamed his shame and begged for mercy.

for a long time qiao stared down her thin muzzle in contempt at this figure. 

but that odor! her eyes lit, watching as the snake pulled from his patch of snow and revealed his cards. qiao counted in disbelief: one, two, six, ten, more than a dozen owl pellets plied neatly in the snow. her olive eyes widened -- first in greed, and then in scrutiny.

is this your peace offering, thief? she reigned in every part of her that screamed to snatch these things from the snow, to call sayf and the mazoi and set this man's reckoning upon him.

yet... a thought intrusively wove its way around her in the constricting manner of a colubrid. qiao seemed to immediately settle, her eyes becoming hooded.