in the Market for a friend

“You think so?” She asked, pleased if she had put it together herself. She squinted about the place, careful not to let any light catch in her gem-encased eyes. “We can just have a nosy through, there's some nick-nack stores, but the one our blacksmith supplies to is the best. Weapons, jewellery, and if he’s around he does custom pieces.” She confided with a grin. “At the back is the bar, but… we aren’t allowed in there” She rolled her eyes so he would know exactly what she thought of that.

She bumped his shoulder and started walking again. “Oh, here’s the furs. My dad killed that grizzly, you can still smell his scent on it” She giggled, and breathed in the familiar scent of the Warlord. “That Leopard has the scent of my Nephew, Basilisk. He’s older than me, and like… half my height again.”

"Speech"