Swiftcurrent Creek witch hunt

He grunted in agreement. The bi-toned woman was nothing more than a lowlife chicken—running from the events she had triggered with her threats. “Said she’s drawn to curses and abominations,” he sneered before ducking his muzzle under the water, using a large rock that jutted out from the center of the creek to break the rapid pull lest he be swept further.

When he surfaced, Arric offered thoughts on who to send—it was unfortunate at just how little options they had, given they now had two mothers and Lestan was still MIA. “Jasmine,” he considered. He hadn’t witnessed her diplomatic skills but he needed their heavy hitters closer to home… or on the hunt. “Moss needs to be part of the hunt for the woman. She clearly wants a piece of her.”