Lion Head Mesa the serpent goddess

i see you have returned. qiao's wizened head rose, eyes glinting cold as icewater. she'd seen leshen's distorted figure scurry in and out of perception as the fellahin took to their early morning routes, and had taken it upon herself by mid-morning to investigate.

he looked hungry. hungrier than the day he'd scored his own cursed trinket from the priestess. good. if the pharaoh knew of your wickedness, he would dress you up and make an example of your woodkept hide. why are you here?

she did not smell the regurgitated pellets which lingered just out of detection, an aroma that would have set her thin coat ablaze.