Lion Head Mesa That's a fine looking high horse

No safer place. Her eyes leaden with mistrust. But she drinks.

“You have,” comes the counter with a knowing look given. She tilts her head, muzzle dripping red.

The fellahin keeps a discreet eye on proceedings, seeing much of what passes in the palace, including those who enter into the chambers of the Erpa-ha.

But there was another, before. The one she’d never been without. Eight paws, and never four that came to their doors in the dead of night.

“Where is the shadow man?”