--
Ithiel is by Raze!
And suddenly, happiness blossomed across the scarred woman's face. Disappointment and apprehension flooded Ithiel, for the only thing to unnerve him was the wanton woman. He was quite certain he'd inspired some kind of maddened lust in her and was preparing to make a hasty -- albeit still polite -- exit when she shook her head and spoke simply. A more perverse canine might have taken her words for metaphor -- and perhaps accepted such an offer, but Ithiel knew only the literal "snake." He, in turn, shook his head and frowned.
I haven't. Snakes are not so common here. Not as they had been in his homeland -- there were the smaller snakes, the little ones who subsisted on tiny mice and little things. The snakes he remembered from his homeland were poisonous rattlesnakes, hissing and shaking their threats through their tails. He shifted in his saddle, considering a moment before he spoke again. Do you know the lowland forests? The thick one, just below the mountain. There are many streams and creeks -- turn over the logs and rocks there, and perhaps you'll find a snake or two?
As a scout, this was the best he could offer her. Ithiel was ignorant of Freetown and what might be found there, else he might have recommended a southward trek to trade. As it was, though, the dusky-hued hybrid thought only of the natural places where Medusa might encounter a snake, and thus sought to provide information for her in turn, as she had done with these burned and dead lands.
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