in tenebris est veritas.
They grunt as they flip the carcass to its other side, sliding the blade beneath the hide and cutting through the tendons in the ankles to remove the feet. It is the head that will be the hardest part with only a hunting knife to cut through the spine; her attention falls briefly on the axe on Talyson’s belt, though she is loath to ask for more help than she needs.
Her cauldron is elsewhere, but she will soon use it to boil the hands and head for stew, bleach the skull and phalanges for effigies and auguries, and save teeth and claws for various other rites. The eyes, tongue, heart, lungs, and kidneys will be preserved for spellwork unless she decides to add them to the stew, while the excess muscle will be dried into jerky. These, however, are not the thoughts on her mind as she works.
“I also knew someone who was killed by Halovian wildmen,” she mentions quietly, tossing a limp rat hand toward her pack. Her voice is hard as she maintains, “We are not the same.”
It does not matter that he dismissed her magic or disrespected spirits. It does not matter that he claimed some idle arrogance in the name of a kill that was not his. But it does matter that such a reputation could be made about her, who would not have the strength of numbers to defend her. It does matter that Valeri is dead.
She sits back grimly, resting her arms a moment before finishing her task. Her gaze averts to the happily dining dragonling, measuring the possibilities of it as her predator. Then she gestures toward the successful fire with a slick blade. “Set up the spit, then, if we’re both to cook some meat.”
Her cauldron is elsewhere, but she will soon use it to boil the hands and head for stew, bleach the skull and phalanges for effigies and auguries, and save teeth and claws for various other rites. The eyes, tongue, heart, lungs, and kidneys will be preserved for spellwork unless she decides to add them to the stew, while the excess muscle will be dried into jerky. These, however, are not the thoughts on her mind as she works.
“I also knew someone who was killed by Halovian wildmen,” she mentions quietly, tossing a limp rat hand toward her pack. Her voice is hard as she maintains, “We are not the same.”
It does not matter that he dismissed her magic or disrespected spirits. It does not matter that he claimed some idle arrogance in the name of a kill that was not his. But it does matter that such a reputation could be made about her, who would not have the strength of numbers to defend her. It does matter that Valeri is dead.
She sits back grimly, resting her arms a moment before finishing her task. Her gaze averts to the happily dining dragonling, measuring the possibilities of it as her predator. Then she gestures toward the successful fire with a slick blade. “Set up the spit, then, if we’re both to cook some meat.”
