Hoshor Plains rich in the mind that's why i'm making deposits

sobeille inspected the offered garment with a feral wariness; while woman, she was strange -- and sobeille was not one to bend her neck for another's blow.

a thousand scents laid their intricate tapestry in the fur of this strange skin. before sobeille could ask of its nature, the moonwoman gave her name and a question. yes, i be wit mireille. sobeille puffed her little chest. i be sobeille. 'ow come you carry dat around, do you ever lose it?