With: Sanya, Kyky, Manny
Where: The grasslands between the Western Plains and the Southern Desert
When: March 28th, 872 RoK
Sanya: "The Witch can sniff out hypocrisy, insolence, crassness," ... "When she curses someone, they deserve it--but she is old and perceptive. She can find a deserving reason to curse anyone, no matter how slight their offense. If you bow with respect you do not feel, she could curse you to crawl on your belly as a snake until you feel the humility and respect you ought to feel in her presence. If you refuse to bow, she could curse you to be an unbowing, unyielding tree until you take a thousand lightning strikes. Every curse she utters, she uses to her advantage. But if you can somehow avoid slighting her, if you can be honest enough before her, she can't touch you with her magic."
As Sanya spoke, Rafael couldn't help but wonder if it had been a stroke of good fortune that he and Sanya's courtship had fizzled out before it had ever begun. Sure, she was beautiful enough, and he enjoyed talking to her, but the more he heard about her grandmother, the more he thought that marrying into the Nimr family would likely be a bit like navigating a field of hornet nests. Eventually, he'd step on one and end up living out the rest of his days as a frog or a fence post.
"She sounds . . . lovely," he commented, dryly, making a mental note to be honest once they came face to face with the Southern witch. If he were being honest though, the anxious pit in Rafael's belly had more to do with the Western witch than it did the Southern one.
He turned in the saddle to cast a glance at Kyky and her centaur friend. "Are you planning to share that bit of knowledge with our traveling companions?" he asked, his voice just as low as Sanya's. "I guess I could be wrong but I'm assuming that survival is as high on their list of priorities as it is our own."