Larksong Grotto What gods bring

Once more, she let out a sly chuckle. Let us play the game of the one who neither speaks nor understands the common tongue.

Hvis titlen Jæger behager dig så meget… så kan selv jeg ikke tage den fra dig! Men se dig nu—en tolk oveni! Her laughter rolled toward the tall, dark man before her gaze returned to the lady clad in white. Aspa’s sense of smell was far from refined—likely dulled by the noxious miasmas she inhaled day after day—so unlike others, she could not rely on it to discern a stranger’s origins.

If there had been so much as a sliver of space between them, Aspa had already consumed it, forsaking all notions of courtesy and propriety to inspect the woman in white more closely. Her snout thrust forward, she lifted the stranger’s lip to reveal her teeth, while her milky eye wandered over the woman’s face… she studied, she searched, she stared—and then, she sensed.

Sig hende, Jæger-Tolk, at ikke alene vil jeg vide, hvem hun er—men at selv guderne finder hende fascinerende! De finder hende underholdende! Or perhaps it was only Aspa, mocking the scene with quiet delight?