A call had come to them, that there were traders. Isabella remembered the visiting caravan that had hosted a month-long festival of sorts, and she remembered the wealth she found. This was more local but it would still prove valuable, surely. The horse's bags were packed with items. She took a good bag full of crumbling tobacco she had found in the garden's storage. At the storage shed, the woman sniffed out several jars of pitch. She knew that they had a small supply of it, so she only took five jars filled with the pine pitch. She carefully nestled the jars her packs, distributing them between the two saddle bags. Soft, old linen cloths were wrapped around them to keep the jars from shattering and ruining the leather bags. She even had two large glass containers holding about 350 milliliters of lavender and swamp rose oil. It had taken a lot of thinking to bring them, as her stock was not the best and she held her oils dear to her heart.

Ducky snorted, smelling the products in the bags on her back as she was laden with them. Isabella could smell the tobacco in the pouches, an earthy smell she could come to like. But the smell was hard to turn into incense and she did not feel the desire to mingle the heady earthy scent with her fragrant fruit odors. And if things were still not enough, she took a few of her lower quality shiny trinkets, knowing someone would be stupid enough to think they struck diamond in a coal mine.

Ducky did not protest once on the way to the trader's camp, the caller's scent faint but clearly present. It was easy to follow and the pace was light. But the problem came when she didn't know who to go to. Did they have a head trader? Or was everyone on their own? Isabella dismounted, her scent disguised faintly with the scent of the sweet swamp rose, only as a sample of what she brought. Her delicate hands lingered on her mare's reigns as she eyed the traders with a screwed look.

A man, smoking something, greeted her with a smile. Isabella returned it with one of her, coyness plain in her bi-colored eyes. She jerked her hips a bit, sticking them out some more. Men liked curves and she had them to work them. Her hands were tight on the rein and Ducky bobbed forward with the precious cargo on her back. Isabella walked a few paces forward, letting her hips swing in a slightly more exaggerated way, emphasized by the light clinging of the chain belt around her waist. The skirt, too, was tightly hugging her hips before spreading out to hide her well built legs. Her smile was coy, and her gaze playful. Let him think whatever he liked; she was ready for anything.

"Yes, of course," she said sweetly, secretly smug inside. Her scent was only ever faintly of Salsola. Perhaps he'd think she had passed by too closely or even stayed with a friend. Anything, so long as she did not reek of her home and give away all. Regardless, she gave more room for her mare to move, lengthening the reins in her palm. She gestured toward the bags on the mare's back, flicking open the closest bag. It had only two bottles of the pitch, the tobacco, and the small jar of rose oil. "I bring some things I'd like to trade. Would you show me what you offer, sir?" she said with her French accented tones, letting the false sweetness drip off her tongue with a liar's practiced skill.

The man offered her an arm, and the gypsy woman happily took it. The reins were transferred from one hand to the other, so that the mare would stand next to Isabella, or rather following behind her obediently. She let her delicate fingers rest lightly on his forearm as she walked beside him, careful to let her hips come close to brushing against him. Her smiles were false, but it did not seem like the man knew it, and if he knew it, he didn't care. Those were truly the best kind of man, that didn't mind the falseness and enjoyed what they got. What luck that she could deal with this man as a trader rather than a hard handed fool. "I'd be interested in finding an animal or two for my home," she said with sweetness, keeping the location vague. "What animals do you have to offer me, monsieur?"

The Arte man stopped abruptly and the moment the woman was afraid he was going to show her jewelry. She peered at the blanket and noted the few pretty baubles she saw there, and the little creature sitting among the valuables. The man slipped from her hold and picked up the kitten, and tucked it against his chest. Isabella peered at the animal and mewled at her as she met it's yellow gaze. She reached a hand to put the little thing, and it took her touch warily. Of course she was a stranger and she would not trust anyone eager to pet her either. "May I?" she asked with a brief flick of her eyes up to the man, before pulling the kitten from his hold. The creature struggled a bit, but settled as she pressed it against her chest, cooing softly. It was like a child. Ducky's reins were tight in her hand, and the other clung to the cat. "It's precious..," she said gently, wondering if the cat was owned or she could trade for it. "Lead the way, good monsieur."

The man offered to take her reins, and a shadow of doubt and wariness passed over her expression. But it faded and her much perkier one reappeared. She nodded her head, and handed the man the horse's reins. Ducky would follow the man, though she knew that there was nothing to fear here. Traders got nowhere by stealing from clients. And the man would get her goods soon enough. "Behave, my sweet Duck," she said to her mare, who eyed her then turned her attention back to the ground where everything wasn't confusing. She would have continued prattling on about how the handsome gentleman was going to take care of her well, when she bit it back and decided it was far too sweet even for her tastes.

A fence surrounded a chicken coup and it reeked of the fowl. Isabella turned up her nose at but could not help admire the roosters. She knew that Salsola had a chicken, a mean thing, but no rooster. Maybe a few fertilized eggs would make more hens for the laying. A steady supply of eggs would be good for everyone, and a steady crop of slaughter-ready chickens was good for a summer with less hoofed meat in storage. "Perhaps a cock?" she asked, wondering if her goods were enough for the animals she desired. But the man gestured to the box for the cats, where several more tumbled with each other. She glanced at the kitten, then at her packs. Surely she had something worthwhile.

A hand on the cat, the woman pulled open the two bags with a free hand. The cat squirmed in her grasp but Isabella was firm. "If I can, I'd like to keep it. Perhaps I have enough for a chicken or two, and the cat?" she asked sweetly, gesturing to her bags. "I have some floral oils, a bag of tobacco, some trinkets, and some pine pitch. Is any of this enough?" Isabella was happy to part with all of it, since there was plenty more to be found.

Isabella shook her head at the man, giving off an easy chuckle. What a stupid man, but English did not seem to be his first language at all. But he was being silly and she was already finding herself annoyed at the easy way. Regardless, she kept her own appearance light and bemuse, sending a look at the man as she rolled her eyes. "Oh, no, you think I'm silly now!" she said prettily and gave a light laugh, waving her hand at the man. "Duck is just an easy way to call her." Isabella patted her mare's neck with a loving look that she didn't have fake. "But it suits her, doesn't it?"

The gypsy woman kept a sidelong glance on the man as he eyed her wares. He seemed excited to hear what she had brought, and she almost gave a smug look at her thoughtfulness. He wanted what she brought and she was happy to begin haggling for the animals. The cat was easy, it would come cheaply as it gave nothing but rats. Isabella pulled out a jar of pitch and held it up for the man to see. "Five of these and -" she paused as she returned the jar to the bag and then pulled the medium jar of an oil and the hefty pouch of tobacco. "Another jar of oil, though a different flower. And this is all the tobacco. It's dried and ready to be rolled. It's quite fragrant." She returned those and decided not to pull out the trinkets. They seemed to have enough jewelry already. "Would it be enough for the cat, a cock, and hen?"

The man looked with a hunger at the pitch, one that knew of its uses. She herself had no real good idea of how to use it, other than on canvas to help keep the rain out. Whatever he wanted to do with it, he would be free to if the trade went through. And with the way he eyed the thick glob of pitch in the jar, it was clear that the trade was likely going to be good. The kitten mewled in her arms, pawing at her arms with claws that weren't quite dangerous.

Shrugging, the gypsy was content to know that her items were accepted. Whoever chose to use her oils was welcome to them, so long as they knew what they did. But she would not lose any sleep over it, especially with a kitten to care for. She would check the gender later, but she felt good about it. "Then I chose well," she said, smiling at the man as though it had been a simply accident. But she had thought about what another pack might like, especially since she thought waterproofing was a pretty good thing to get for a group. "I'm glad you like what I have brought."

Isabella began to pull out the jars and handed the first two to the man. "If I could get a cage or something for the birds, I would greatly appreciate it. I have a good walk to get home and I don't want to hang them by their feet to annoy me and my mare." She pulled out the rest of the contents of the first bag, the tobacco and oils, and held them. "Where would you like these? I'll gladly pick out the creatures once these are put away. Perhaps I can hold the birds in the sacks and keep a small hole for their little heads?" she asked, questioningly.

Isabella watched as the man took the jars and carried them in so silly a way. But what could she do about it? It was his job now to take care of the things she had given him and she was a little worried about it. "You positive?" she asked gently, noticing the way he carried her jars. To be careful, she pulled out the vials of the oil and the tobacco and wrapped them in her sash. She handed it off to the man, glad she had worn a fairly old light sash. "It shouldn't rip and it'll make carrying it easier." Her precious oils were at stake here; they had not come cheaply.

Vasiliy offered to make her a cage out of wire for the trinkets, and the woman breathed a sigh of relief. The wire would be good for the Thistle Kingdom, and would make carrying the stupid chickens quite easier. Ducky wouldn't mind the creatures clucking against her side, and it was easy to shift some things to make room for the kitten. If anything, she wanted to clutch the creature, knowing that it was a wiry thing that could slip out of a bag with a tiny hole. "Take it all, there is more where it came from," she said lightly, pulling out the couple of silver chains and a few bronze bracelets. Only a bronze bracelet had a few gems in them, and they even felt fake to her tapping nails.

Isabella laughed, shaking her head at the chickens. "If one dies of fright, we'll just eat it and enjoy cowardly bird." She didn't know if he wanted to take the trinkets or not, especially since she figured she could just button down the bags for the chickens now that they'd be empty. "I think we'll be okay without the chickens. Though take these for the loss of eggs. Something at least," she added with a shrug.

Isabella watched as he carefully set the jars aside, where they couldn't be confused for more trading goods. It looked like the pack might truly like what she had brought for them. They were certainly useful items, that had many uses. Of course, she was also very proud of her own work, and expected it to be treated well and considered valuable. After all, she was a woman who enjoyed her work and did not much care for naysayers. If it was quality work, she stood by it to the end. And it was quality work, so she simply let the smug grin remain on her face until he returned to look at her and she replaced it with one of more innocence and, dare she say it, of an airhead nature.

"Would you please?" she asked, sweetly as she had been this entire encounter. She looked into the coup and found herself a strong looking rooster. He was a dark fellow, with more brown and black then yellow in his plumage. "How about that one?" she asked, pointing to the striding cock. He seemed strong-willed, and that would have to do when dealing with that vicious bitch hen that the pack couldn't kill for her valuable eggs. Maybe if they could just get her knocked up, they could actually let her keep a few of her eggs, so they could have a few more laying hens. That would definitely be nice. And they could eat any males that came along, especially if their rooster was in the prime of his life. "And that hen?" she added, gesturing to another hen, who seemed just as strong-willed as the rooster. A good pair, especially with the other hen to think about. Isabella went back and readied the bags, ready to button it down quickly when the chickens were put in each one.

Isabella watched the other man come around to stand beside her. He surely saw that she had been jutting her hips out, and let her skirt drape over her curves. At least he did not want anything of her, and he clearly could keep his temptations in. Isabella smiled at him as he came to pick up the rooster she had gestured to, and he had handed it to her. She took it as he had suggested, keeping the wings pinned to its side. He was right to think she knew nothing about chickens, especially considering she care little for them except for the eggs in particularly rich foods. Last Suppers were accentuated with more and more luxury, she noticed as the months went on. Isabella was happy to see it, for she was a woman that liked her things rich, and her tastes were expensive.

As the man wrestled with the next chicken and another rooster, Isabella slipped her choice of cock into the saddle bag, careful to secure him in the bag. She quickly buttoned the bag, leaving only a small hole for the creature's head to pop up. He clucked rapidly, head bobbing around as he looked at the horse and at the woman who had put him in it. Thinking ahead, she had put the chicken facing out, so that it couldn't peck her pour Ducky or her own legs. She could do without leg scars from an angry pair of chickens. Isabella had the other bag ready as she turned to look at the man as he fought the rooster. But he came up victorious and the hen went into her bag too. They were surprisingly calm for being locked in a bag without any potential for movement."

"Perhaps I ought to have taken that one. I have a hen who needs a good man to quiet her." She thought no such thing, but it would certainly add to the lie. Isabella's eyes widened as she saw the blood on his arm. She rushed to him and touched the area near the cuts. "Oh you poor thing," she cooed, almost surprising herself with her sugary falseness. She puckered her lips, wondering if it was all a little too much.

The man brushed an arm against her forearm in reassurance, and she had to suppress her desire to flinch away from the man's touch. It was far too comforting for her, and she was not used to men fawning over her in a protective manner. Granted, it had happened but she always had the power to easily laugh them away and remove them from her domicile. Here, she played a dangerous game with a a man who did not know the extent of her distaste for the male nature. To keep her cover, the woman winced, keeping the rest of her body as still as it was before. "That sounds terrible. What an ugly death," she said, wrinkling her nose at the thought. This charade was going beyond her level of skill; she rarely had to pretend to be anyone different than what she really was. But she kept it up, risking blowing her cover. "But better than eaten by bear, yes?" she said with a timid smile, though inside she was nothing but timid.

Isabella did not know what the man was like, nor did she know what he thought of a woman in her trade. She did not know if he would happily trade her body for more animals or if he would pushed her away and thank her for her custom. Cautiously, she chose to test the waters of the suggestion. If he did nothing and did not offer, she might pull away and leave for the quiet of her sanctuary. If he did accept, she would happily trade for more. But he was a handsome creature, so perhaps it could even be an interesting coupling regardless. Sirius was not her only customer, and she missed having variety.

Lowering her eyes, the woman feigned embarrassment, keeping her bi-colored eyes on the cuts. "But you're hurt, because of me. If I had not picked a rooster, you would not have been hurt," she said quietly, gently touching the area just next to the blood. Coquettishly, she raised her eyes to peer at him, keeping her muzzle lower. "Vasiliy is not so little, but it must hurt."