Lion Head Mesa Cobra

That night she had asked Tuna which of the Mazoi’s rooms belonged to the man @Khusobek. 

He is not there when she appears beneath his archway, bearing riches: cedar and acacia, wine- the palace’s rare vintage, a thick cut from the pack’s latest kill and a silver fox pelt slung over her shoulders. She arranges the offerings in a presentable manner, the wine and meat off to one side, incense upon a bedrock shelf, and the fur draped over his bed.

She takes a step back, her work is inspected. It is grand, and by her estimation sufficiently so. But she would not know if it was enough for the Mazoi to overlook the evening prior.