Lion Head Mesa spear & sickle

When they call, you must answer. Inji came to believe Eset was a woman of sound advice. A mazoi — to no one in particular he had addressed with the order, she presumed, but she had felt his eyes upon her in the passing days.
She takes it upon herself. She had not the strength to try and stall as she had with the Lord; to butter him up before giving herself away.
He asks for water, and she brings it forth in a dish of woven reeds, along with a complementary selection of fermented berries plucked from the caches. She greets him with a loose smile, searching his hardened face with wide-blown lavender eyes. Saliva pearls along his chin; his fur, hot to the touch as the curve of her hip brushes against his chest.
Is there anything else, sir? her tongue brushes against her lip; waiting, for she knew this would not be all.