Lion Head Mesa the jokes' worn thin, the king's stepped in

qiao stood upon the path where she had last seen @Leshen. she had been in no condition to see this enterprise through and yet, at sayf and tavina's great displeasure, had left the sickbay and gone to her chambers.

and now she stood just off the snowpath, watching between rounds of splitting headache.

every bit of meat she owned was at her feet. fermented roe in clamshells, quail eggs steeped in a medley of spices, old and gnarled limbs with the fat still upon them.

her empire for leshen to eat to his heart's content -- for a price on @Khaba's head.

For several days after being poisoned, Leshen had avoided returning to the witch’s realm. Her medicine had indeed helped him recover, however the wolf was not keen on ever reliving the horrific hours of strangling pains he had experienced that night.

Yet, it was the fact that he did live that brought him back to this place.

She could have killed him, easily and without another thought. Instead, she had spared him. Though not without severe punishment, as he deserved. Leshen mulled over her offer of work, not a word that he minded, and eventually he began visiting the meet-place again. Same time, every day.

For a while she was not there. Until suddenly, she was. Leshen approached in a lank trot, neither cautious nor aggressive. They were even, as far as he was concerned; no need for him to cower or enact retribution. He paused before her, extending his muzzle with an inquiring sniff. What happened to you?

leshen arrived in a loose gait. qiao bowed her head in greeting, offering for his eyes the long gash that snarled across the back of her skull. 

she gave him time to inspect before she stepped back, eyes ablaze. this is yours to claim, she gestured to the stock at their feet with a wizened paw. half now, half after the deed is done.

she set back on her heels while her head throbbed. his name is khaba. he is tall, likely the largest thing you will find on the trail. his fur is black, eyes silver, with silver markings along his chest and spine. you will know him by his arrogance. she took in a breath, feeling fatigue threaten to take her. it’d been a great hardship dragging these wares outside of akashingo’s walls. he has fled akashingo for his crime. kill him, bring his head to me, and i will return with the second half.

Redwine eyes flashed across the odd lick of fur along the back of the witch-queen’s crown. A wound. Recent and severe. Leshen’s tongue flashed against the silverwhite of his chin, and his teeth shone slick in a grimace. Her olivestone gaze burrowed into him, leaving an imprint on his mind’s eye. He looked down at the bounty she had collected for him, meat and eggs, a meal fit for a mercenary.

He sniffed over the food, searching skeptically for that dangerously sweet scent he had done well to remember. Finding no threat of poison, Leshen returned his attention back to the priestess, ears twitching as he listened.

Black fur, silver eyes, silver markings. Large and arrogant.

Kill him.

The serpent wolf hunkered down before her, pawing the clam shells closer and starting to lap up the fish eggs. He was slow and methodical with this, pondering, considering, turning the idea over and over in his head.

Eventually, he looked up at the worn-down witch, her harried expression cementing his resolve. Leshen gathered a limb of fatty meat to himself then and snapped the bone in two with a single, resolute bite. He met her eye and nodded once. Deal.

qiao pulled away, observing the grimace held on leshen's features. he looked to the collected wares, sniffing their contents. no doubt vestiges of their last encounter lingered in his mind.

he listened attentively. then he went for the clamshells, lapping each of them between his teeth. qiao allowed him this time to think --what she asked of was no small errand.


at last he nodded. qiao offered a smile without warmth. i will check here in a week's time. good luck.

she rose, gathering herself stiffly and making for akashingo.

So enamored by his fragrant bounty, Leshen hardly noticed when the witch departed. A flick of his ears, a wayside glance, then he was gorging himself of every last bite. When his proverbial plate was cleaned, the reptilian wolf scratched snow over the spot he had dined and absconded once more into the nearby woods.

He would wait the night to see if he grew ill, and when he did not, the task that had been set before him solidified in his mind.

***

He returned in a week, as promised, though he was empty-pawed and went therefore unrewarded. There had yet to be a sign of Khaba in the surrounding areas, but Leshen was sent out again to locate the beast.