Totoka River it’s yours and it’s mine.

qiao had seen many men weakened by the influence of their power-totem. this man’s constitution was whittled down to nothing — no doubt a side effect of the artefact he held in his possession. 

she shared a glance to stormchaser that could almost be misconstrued as sympathetic. 

then she looked back at the floundering man with the bone in his mouth. 

an image came to her of holding his shoulders and head underwater while violent bubbles cracked the surface — he was so willowy and reduced, would he really be able to fight back?

leave him be, the old witch murmured, her grandmotherly mein disguising the greed that rotted her mind. she must earn this man’s trust, and watch him to see how the totem supped from his lifeblood. only then would she understand it enough to be able to wield it effectively. 

come from the water, you bloody fool. qiao barked from the bank, her matronly no-nonsense tone carrying over the headwaters. you can dry off while we help ourselves to one of your fish. surely you don’t mind?