Zenaida pats the half-elf's head. "Good child. I am sure you can make word spread. Just remember, I want the item they are using," After showing the witch that she has indeed finished her soup, Yziie leaves the shack and returns to the village. Down the hill, on the short walk back to Tanhok, she cannot help but breath in deeply, the smell of the swamp, the grass, the winds that carries the scent of goat from their pens, all seem so much more intense than what she remembered on the way here.<br/><br/>In the streets, Yziie considers the shrines. Seir's shrine will have less people around it, but she likes that one more than Bane's, whose brutality doesn't speak to her the way it does to most natives of this land. As she ponders this predicament she bumps into Slavitsa, the richest woman in Tanhok. She carries a bunch of eels, tightly bound, danging from a stick over the shoulder. "Morning Easy," she inclines her head, polite but a little indifferent. A talented trader and a hardworking farmer, she cannot help but look down a little on the carefree, easy life of a traveling entertainer, at least that is how she perceives matters.