Cinder unstraps my saddlebags and flies off to her hoard to add the bits and valuables to the pile, peeling off afterwards to add the pink salt to a separate, smaller pile of other pouches full of the illicit narcotic. Meanwhile, I take stock of the food and other supplies we’d stocked up on while out today; some of it I bought, some of it we both stole. According to the weatherzebra in the bazaar square, there was a huge freak storm coming that was supposed to bring nothing but pouring rain for the next day or two, and of course that meant everyzebra and their mother was in a rush to stock up for it.