Luneshale Pass fifty-first

Legend departed from the Luneshale after orders had been spoken. Her time out in the evening took her away from the other Mazoi. To the gathering of other royalty, fellahin and common-folk cheers, time ticked by that she did not come back. It was late, her arrival.

But in a slip of a chattering crowd and forming laughters, the night-creatures hairs intruded. In her mouth, she held wild birds, killed at the wings and throat to preserve the thick of the meat.

To the cache, she found herself searching for with a low head, keeping herself small and out of the way. She was easy to overlook, if one managed to spot her. She tried to be.