The plan works... Ora drops down to the mound of bones and the hellhound beneath her, gasping for air and trembling in terror. It takes her a moment to get her bearings, but as soon as she does she grabs the hellhound and tosses it over her shoulders. She pushes through exhaustion and a pang of guilt at the little girl's cries, though that is eased by the mother's expected callousness about the fate of a straggler. Once she's safely out of the alleyways and back on track she takes the time to examine her surroundings.<br/><br/>A bath, fresh clothing, some medicine, some food... the girl has needs; the new bruises forming around her neck remind her she's had two brushes with death today and she is not eager to fare more poorly in a third should she be caught wandering around without a shell to her name. She keeps her eye out for any business that may be interested in buying a hellhound while also wondering how that man so nonchalantly carried the damn thing; it feels like a sack of stones. Her belly rumbling at the sight of these restaurants provides motivation to keep on pushing through.<br/><br/>Clothes... the type she'd be paid to protect in transit, but here actually worn. Men running around serving food with their shafts proudly jutting out. What a strange place this village is! For now, she looks to the Roasted Pleasure. They clearly sell Hellhound, perhaps they will purchase more from her?