Luneshale Pass which door do we open?

he laughed. annoyance bladed under the priestess’ skin — yet her composure was masterfully kept. 

from her deerskin pelt she drew the self-same strip of meat that had once been used to trick @Lestan. there are no wolves because the natives see to that. a half-truth, told in the convincing measure of a whole; she slid the piece of meat towards him. 

inside its gnarled surface was enough malicious tonic to make him gravely ill, but not poison him. a trick meant to convince the man into believing her words had been true. 

this will counteract their poison — but be forewarned, it will not be pretty. she wondered what the twist of pain would look like on such aesthetically pleasing features. your servitude would be thus: i have a particular need for an errand boy, as mine has been lost. no mention of how either @Sayf or lestan had found their position by her side forfeited; in exchange, you will be fed and protected from the angry spirits that linger here.