Neverwinter Forest But we see it, the rest of us. And we lie.

Belharra's big old ego would have burst to hear Asmodeus regard her as easily the most cunning. She liked being smart. It had its advantages.

One of it was, she was born with a healthy dose of skepticism. "Do ye often look for wolves to do the mutual bidding of? What do ye do, to those that don't benefit ye any longer?" Belharra had ideas - maybe he collected ears the way others collected human lampshades. She was going to judge, either way.

"Of course I'm the young maiden. Fair and ravishing, to boot." She delivered a rogue wink, moving now along a trail sodden with damp pine-straw and half melted snow. She then turned around abruptly, giving the dark-eyed wolf the full benefit of her narrowed gaze. "So, are ye the ogre, the dragon, the wicked witch, or the white knight in my story?"