From her height advantage, Salvia was able to see the stranger approaching. She was tall for a coyote, and a dusty color accented by cinnamon-rust. The Cicerone took her in as one might observe a horse—looking for signs of good breeding, weakness, anything—and this aloof gaze soon met with one of true turquoise. Salvia had seen stones of this nature in Freetown, and thought of them as she listened to the woman speak. Recalling Sirius’ instructions and warning (keep your temper in check), she swung from Nacht’s back and landed lightly on her feet. The two canines were nearly equal height (though the coyote was taller), and Salvia was further impressed by this. Whatever freak genetics had caused such an event left little trace of anything beyond coyote, and while she was positive there had to be more, she did not see it upon her first sweeping glance.
She looped the two loose leather reins around one arm, giving Nacht more than enough room to graze behind her. Salvia did not smile or express any real emotion; all that came was that interested tiger’s gaze. “I’m here on behalf of Salsola,” she explained, cutting to the point. “My name is Salvia Eternity, Cicerone—second in command,” the young woman added, thinking it might aid her to do so. Even now, she was thinking of how to speak, how to respond—even guessing what she might be asked.
“We’ve offered no discourse since the war, and I sought to reprimand that. I apologize for not sending a message,” she added, thinking of Magnolia’s bird. “But I wanted to come myself.”