The golden coy woman seemed surprised at Zera’s speech, but it should not have been so. It did not take a Seer such as herself to be keen to notice this woman’s nature. A learned individual could have made a guess as to the culture of her scars. Charlatans had done similar in the past, pulling the wool over the eyes of unsuspecting simple minds who lined up to buy whichever snake oil the so called wise men were selling. But there was no underhandedness in Zera’im’s ways, she lacked the ability to take advantage of others. What she offered was the truth, or what little of the truth she knew.
The pack female put Zera’im in her place and the collie put a hand to her chest in a sign of shame, “How impertinent of me, I apologize for being so demanding.” She straightened and looked calmly into the face of the woman in front of her, mismatched eyes seemingly staring into her soul, “I am called Zera’im. I am a woman who speaks with the spirits and who also listens. They have guided me here and it is unwise to disobey them.” As she spoke, the breeze picked up and swept lose leaves into the air in front of her, she took a deep breath. It sometimes was dangerous to rouse the spirits names in conversation.
Zera watched in silence as the coy-wolf paced in front of her. Zera could almost see into her, like she was no more than frosted glass. She could see the fire within her, it burned like an ember, white hot and elusive. This was a gifted woman, the spirits had blessed her with an aura that shamed others. Zera’im closed her eyes as the woman spoke, trying to dull her senses lest she be caught up in the life-force of this being. She had asked a question, a question that Zera could not truly answer. She let out the smallest of sighs before replying, “That is not the question you should ask. What should be asked is why you have come here to meet me. Our paths have been ordained to intertwine; soon the answer will be revealed to us.” She turned her head to look up at the sickle moon, “Perhaps the sky spirit Luna has made this come to pass. In her waning she has birthed this encounter from the womb of the night.”
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