Kintla Flatlands dies irae, dies illa

what a thing the last weeks had been!
neither hide nor hair of the saints had turned up again. phay-row had taken the moment to declare themselves an independent nation. maggie was pleased with the way things had turned out, though more than once the beauty had considered going off to kynareth herself, sampling more of those wares, and offering to be eyes and ears in the mesa.
ram had won out with what was on offer.
maggie trotted through the flatlands, keeping within sight of the mesa. soon they'd be a proper place, though she suspected with colder weather coming, culls would be harder to find.
speak of the devil. "hey!" she called out toward the bonny figure. the air was a freshet of blood. she approached and wet her lips with an impressed chuckle. "ain't nothing like a spot o' 'untin', innit sir?" the lovely girl brayed in her thick backwater accent. "yer awfully close to akashingo, however."