Strel had heard the call and he knew that a caravan was here to trade. The voice was not known to him, but he did not very well know the men and women of the artisan pack. Regardless, he rushed to his closet, ignoring the bottles of alcohol that were starting to appear on his dresser more and more frequently. With him he took a good handful of clothes, a dress or two, a shirt or two, some pants and knee-highs to trade with them. Surely luperci tailored clothing would be welcome among the traders, especially since he had not seen them have any last time. Even the traveling traders from far away had small supplies of the stuff. He swelled at pride, though deflated when he realized how little raw cloth he had left and just how short of supplies he was.
He arrived with clothes draped across his arms, slowly ambling up with every drop of entitlement he had. A leader, he was, and he was here to trade with other leaders. He smelled Casa on the wind, though he doubted that Anann was going to be visiting them again despite her origins. First to the caravan, the Dauphin lingered nearby, staring at the caravan. He wondered what goods they would have for him. Paper would be much desired as his yellowed notebook was almost full and his charcoal running out unfortunately. Perhaps seeds for something pretty. Hopefully.
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