Dragoncrest Cliffs two minutes, turkish.

Cayetano, it seemed, never left her side for long. She couldn't figure out why. She assumed he merely wanted another roll in the grass, but if that was it, he'd be sorely disappointed, because she was too sore. She reared her head back with an annoyed snarl at the sudden fish dropped nearly atop her head. Its scent filled her nostrils, and underneath the scent of meat was something... else.

What... is that? she asked, sniffing at it distastefully, her nostrils twitching. Where did you get this?