Larksong Grotto what gods win, what you lose

he fixes aspa with a narrowed gaze, feeling his cheeks burn hot at her comment; ears following suit, laying down thinly against his dome of a head. again, with the warrior. each time, he feels as though it grates harsher and harsher. but he only scoffs in response, hanging his head and tightening his teeth once more on the scruff of the stag.
hauling it within the center of her hut, doing as instructed. letting his eyes pass thinly over the scene the soothsayer had set up for herself. loitering briefly on the 'five other guests' part. shooting her a glance. five others? he grumbles.
but he stifles. i have, he responds, not in some time. then—what will you ask of them?
the gods.