Luneshale Pass which door do we open?

a quill, a bluejay feather, and the fang of a mountain cat set composed in the dust before her. qiao motioned to her to’lang and cast the stones. 

for a long while she studied the language of their orientation. they told a story yet to unfold; new life breathing into these ancient and lifeless lands. 

a long exhale pressed from her nose as she turned to the sky limned with dusty rose and lavender. to the east, the burning eye of venus glared.

After traveling nonstop for nearly two weeks, Talisman found a shaded spot in a particularly eldritch forest and collapsed. He fell asleep before his head even came to rest properly on the leaf litter.

When the young coyote woke, he couldn’t be sure if it was dawn, dusk or sometime in between. Talis sat up, freshly fallen leaves tumbling from his pale back. He blinked, groggy, and shifted onto his feet. There was a great deal of crunching as he stepped out of his makeshift bed and dipped into a luxurious stretch.

After a vast yawn, he straightened and began to walk in the direction he happened to be facing. Talis ignored the ache in his paws until he came across a trickling stream just beyond a remarkably lush meadow. The scents of blossoms still lingered in his nose as the earth dried out approaching the banks of the feeble river.

He waded straight into the shallows, sighing as the water engulfed his cinnamon paws. Talis dipped down to lap at the water, which tasted like minerals. His bister tail switched and his pale blue eyes roved over the rippling surface until he raised his head and they suddenly clapped upon a figure seated in the middle distance across the diminishing stream.

a silhouette pierced the rosy haze, wading through the sparse meadow water. qiao mused on the irony of how often she met travelers at water’s edge. perhaps it was that water was the life giver — the network that connected all roads. 

he was lean with travel. young. she wondered if he hailed from the tribe, but she scented no trademark of theirs on his wispy fur. i would not drink the water, she intoned with regretfulness. the natives poison it.

There were some objects scattered at her feet, though Talis scarcely noticed them. He was rather riveted by the coyote herself. Her pelt was darker than his own, replete with warm, earthy hues that would allow her to blend in particularly well with autumn foliage. Her eyes were a striking shade of green, set into a chiseled face which suited her macilent build.

Her lips parted and she issued a warning, prompting Talis to blink before his pastel eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Was that a joke? She looked rather grim, her tone thick with remorse, as if she was sorry she hadn’t told him sooner. Still peering at her curiously, he stepped out of the water, giving each rubicund paw a flick.

That’s okay, dad says I was born this way, Talis said coolly, gesturing at himself, specifically his peculiar coloration, because I’m immortal.

he blinked back at her but would find no crack in qiao’s composure. her features were set in stern formation, weathered as they were by time.

droplets flicked from the tips of his sorrel paws as he moved from the stream. qiao reached to pull her sigil stones aside.

your father sounds like an idiot. she informed him dismissively, eyes panning his strawberry-blonde features with a clinician’s dry measure. i can lead you to an antidote — but it will come at a cost.

He didn’t really believe that, obviously. His beloved father had thought highly of him, perhaps giving Talis a bit of a complex, particularly in regards to his looks. You’ve got some superior genes thanks to your mum, Shardul rest her soul, he could hear his dad’s voice in his head even now, a fond memory that would’ve brought on a smile if he hadn’t been clenching his jaw at the woman’s insult.

You look old enough to know a joke when you hear one? he retorted, pale eyes flashing as he added, Look, I’m not stupid. But fine, I’ll play along. Name your price.

He really liked to think he wasn’t an idiot—nor was his father, for that matter—but with each passing day, Talis found himself craving the connection he’d lost when striking out on his own. He missed his dear ole dad. He was bored at the best of times, dreadfully lonely at the worst. There was no going back, though, and sometimes negative attention was better than nothing at all.

qiao fixed the goldspun male with her most frigid stare; one that conveyed beyond all doubt she was truthful.

of course, even that was a lie — he was a loner, and she’d found that those on the road were particularly desperate, which often made them of particular use to her.

she ignored his jab at a joke. if nothing else, qiao committed to a bit. look around you. do you see many wolves? she canted her muzzle to the innocent stream, silently indicating its complicity. my price is your servitude. take it, or don’t. your corpse could be equally as useful.

with this the priestess began to collect her wares, one slender ear turned back to the sorrel-pointed male.

Maybe he wasn’t as smart as he thought, because he couldn’t make sense of the next several words out of her mouth. He didn’t move a muscle; he didn’t have to look to know there were no other wolves of prairie or standard varieties around them. This wasn’t remarkable, in his experience, and what did it have to do with anything?

While Talis tried to parse that, she named her price. It was so absurd, he laughed out loud. The sound nearly drowned out her statement about his corpse. He stared until his pale eyes grew grainy, realizing she was either very serious or an incredibly talented actor.

I’ll, he replied, meaning to say, I’ll take my chances, and then very likely leave.

He didn’t believe there was any real danger. It wasn’t possible to poison running water. But something about the word “servitude” intrigued him in an entirely inexplicable way. It felt like the very marrow of Talis’s bones was vibrating with some queer energy. His pupils visibly dilated as he thought of his dad’s tales about Shardul, the cougar god who had enslaved his great grandmother.

This spry woman was nothing like a mountain lion, though this peculiar sensation singing in his blood combined with his quiet desperation for companionship prompted Talis to ask, And what does that look like, exactly?

he laughed. annoyance bladed under the priestess’ skin — yet her composure was masterfully kept. 

from her deerskin pelt she drew the self-same strip of meat that had once been used to trick @Lestan. there are no wolves because the natives see to that. a half-truth, told in the convincing measure of a whole; she slid the piece of meat towards him. 

inside its gnarled surface was enough malicious tonic to make him gravely ill, but not poison him. a trick meant to convince the man into believing her words had been true. 

this will counteract their poison — but be forewarned, it will not be pretty. she wondered what the twist of pain would look like on such aesthetically pleasing features. your servitude would be thus: i have a particular need for an errand boy, as mine has been lost. no mention of how either @Sayf or lestan had found their position by her side forfeited; in exchange, you will be fed and protected from the angry spirits that linger here.

Though the concept of servitude stirred some race memory in his blood, the magic began wearing off quite rapidly when the woman presented a chunk of meat and invited Talis to eat it. She insisted it was the antidote, seemingly ignoring his refutations about the poisoned water. Isolated though he felt, he possessed a fairly healthy sense of self-preservation.

Thank you for the intriguing offer, Talis said, meaning it when he said he was fascinated. If I was poisoned, wouldn’t I be feeling it by now? I’m going to have to pass on the treat, he continued, pupils still larger than usual against the glacial blue of his irises as he licked his lips, but if you’re not too offended by that, I’d actually love to hear more about this errand boy business…

He could feel his heart thumping, partly with that same bizarre excitement but also some instinctual fear. This woman was a wildcard and could certainly be dangerous. Talis truly wanted to know more, though simply loitering here in her presence felt increasingly risky. The young coyote braced his flame-pointed legs, just in case he needed to make any sudden movements.

if only she could mutter some incantation to whisk away his sense of preservation! qiao muttered to herself, pulling the bolus back to her chest. 

the crone was not one to waste energy in fruitless errands. he was too crafty to make a worthy errand-boy, and his wits too close to his sense of self to be easily molded. 

poison does not always act quickly. she dismissed his logic with vague gesticulation.  what use would it be having you die in the water to serve as warning to others? no, some poisons take hours to set hold in your blood — and by then, it is too late.

she collected her trinkets and pulled the greenbriar torc through her slim neck. i have no use for a dead errand boy. she shrugged off his inquiry for more details with a flick of her tail, already climbing from the rocky embankment to make her way down luneshale’s vast plains.

Every muscle in his body tensed at her terse retort. For the first time since her initial warning, he actually wondered if she spoke the truth. His heart began knocking a little harder, a flush of uncomfortable heat blooming under his skin. Talis felt slightly panicky as she turned to leave.

He opened his mouth to call after her, though a compulsion just as mysterious as his sudden arousal froze his tongue. Talis made a small noise and that was all. The nameless woman soon shrank into a speck and disappeared against the shimmering horizon.

After she was gone, it was almost like a spell broke. Talis coughed and shook his head, glancing dubiously at the water trickling so benignly. Still feeling a tight heat at the nape of his neck, he slunk toward the bank again and sniffed at the water, as if that might tell him the truth.

It told him nothing, of course. He wrinkled his nose and stepped backward, glancing in the direction she had gone. Talis stared for quite a while as different compulsions pulled at him. Should he follow the mysterious coyote, after all? Or should he head in the totally opposite direction and hope never to see her again?

Nearly an hour passed before Talisman made a decision. Still feeling absolutely normal—pardoning the strange emotions this encounter had evoked—he plucked his hindquarters off the dusty soils, shook out his pale pelt and broke into a steady trot.