Galla blushed and gasped as the implication came at her. She continued to look at the satyr, rather enchanted by his voice, by his entire demeanor. She could not understand her reaction. Surely, it was a mere result of the interraction with a fantastic creature, one she had imagined but a child's fairytale or dream. But here he was, and in his splendour, he commanded attention. She bowed her head slightly and whispered: "No, I would not think you smelled like a goat..." She held back a giggle. There was a scent coming from him, but it was not that of a goat. It was animalistic, and primal, and it kept pulling on her eyes, strangely, directing them to his muscles, and lower, and lower...<br/><br/>Galla gasped again and shook her head angrily. She did not understand what had gotten into her. A few minutes ago she had been on the verge of commiting murder. Or had it been half an hour ago...She had rebelled, she would still do so, against slavery, against the Heroes and what they stood for. And yet, now...she had apologized, and she had agreed to some terms. And she was staring at this marvelous creature, wondering about how she would serve him. She pulled away, confused and scared now. Utterly terrified. With a trembling voice, she whispered: "What is it you require of me?" The question was adressed to everyone in the room.