Boartusk Heights Black-tailed

“You are not the first I’ve asked, my Lady,” Eset counters with a tweak to the obsidian brow that fought to keep its submission. It is a strange inquest, and the dame’s narrowed eyes spurn the hebsut’s own suspicions. On the defensive, she had something to hide. Now the coy wondered what it was.

Her firelit eyes found the boy, his little voice holding strong as the foehns passed bitter fingers through their fur.

“Fellahin are employed servants to Pharaoh,” she explains to the pup, who seemed more curious than guarded. Her right shoulder faces the brunt of the wind and the hebsut shudders once more.

“Just below; are you referring to the West of these spires?” Her own question of the woman comes next.