Sunset Valley Tspēsh

A delicate gesture, one that had not failed to amuse the soothsayer. She had studied the skins—an exquisite work, the mark of seasoned hunters who wielded the art of flaying with practiced mastery. She herself was wholly incapable of such a craft.

Prøver du at vinde gudernes gunst, Ayovi? she mused, laughter dancing in her voice. De bekymrer sig kun lidt om materielle goder, og de er ligeglade med, hvem der vælger at overøse mig med gaver. she remarked with a hint of amusement.

Men det er en betænksom gestus. she conceded before letting her gaze settle upon the Blizzardske Dame's. Hvad er det, du ønsker af mig?

Aspa had little faith in the purity of goodwill or the generosity of those who gave without expecting in return. She knew the northern folk too well for that. Yet perhaps the White Lady’s kin was cut from a different cloth?

With slow, deliberate steps, she began to circle her guest, her keen gaze tracing every detail, as was her custom—to observe, to study, to unravel.

Velsignelser? Løfter? Et glimt af fremtiden? Sejr? The woman intrigued her, entertained her. Aspa had crossed paths with many peoples before—enough to have forced herself to grasp fragments of the common tongue. Yet few had ever turned their affections toward northern men of their own free will.