art by crypsis
Trade was, obviously, not something Anatole even considered. He was so underexposed to such an idea that the cart was not even considered until she mentioned it. This did not prompt him forward; he instead looked at it, took it in, and turned back to her. She was after something, or hoped they might be, and Anatole certainly did not think that AniWaya was lacking for want. Still, he would humor her; at the very least he was curious as to what brought her around. Most traders didn’t seek out packs, but instead went to where true profit could be made. He had heard the name “Freetown” mentioned more than once in his travels.
Finally, when she had explained herself, he advanced. Though on four legs he was tall enough that he didn’t need to crane his head far to examine the odds and ends within the cart; he scented something living and flicked an ear. Everything seemed redundant to him; they had most of these things within the Tribe. He looked over to the dog again. “I don’t see anything AniWaya might need,” he explained to her. “Most of this we already have.”
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