Sleeping Dragon forcing

there is a family nearby, qiao informed @Stormchaser as she worried the tough hide of a felled porcupine. in the coming days, they would need his quills. she did not share the dark scent she'd scented hot on the mother's breath. it would not matter in a day or two.

as luck would have it, the wind shifted and another more pleasantly familiar scent was borne on its wings. qiao set aside her work and motioned for stormchaser to look alert.

makono -- with odd traces of.. garlic? here of all places -- the overworld's red ribbons of fate worked in strange ways. 

qiao donned an innoffensive smile as she neared the woman, who looked a little older -- and significantly more scarred -- than the last time they'd met. qiao's olive eyes traced the disfigurement along makono's face.

her haka had found its mark, then. she wondered what else had been stolen from makono all this time. makono. no need for epithets so far from akashingo. the priestess gaze conveyed the question that notched from her tongue seconds later. who is your friend? she signaled to the man who lingered nearby, tamping the woman's trail with the acrid scent of wild herbs.