Luneshale Pass mercy street redux

phox’s quip met the hardened measure of her stare. qiao was no jester, and humor had no place in her court. 

the smell. she replied in turn, leaving it vague on which end of life’s scent she meant. 

given the man’s condition , qiao was surprised he had not perished in the snowdrifts. perhaps phox had some cosmic favor with the overworld. perhaps an unknown taotaomona guarded his spirit. who feeds you?