DraconicFeline
hey hey ow o
Match was out in somewhat unfamiliar territory. A few days back, he had brought a particular leaf to one of the herb-dealers whom he dealt with -- one of the few who didn’t act nervous around him, and didn’t mind chatting a bit. Even if the chatter was somewhat one-sided, what with Match mostly communicating by nods and hums. After a few false starts, the woman figured out that he wanted to know where he might be able to find more of it… and directed him here. She must have known what he was doing. The plant -- greenhew, it was called in the markets -- was hard to find, but after a few hours of searching he had been able to dig up three.
He had just found a fourth when the big janarim travelling alongside him caught a whiff of something interesting. Teymaw’s scaled neck shot up, his nostrils flaring.
Matchitemin looked up as well. His sense of smell was acute, for an earthling… but he couldn’t pick up anything particularly unusual. It smelled like jungle, maybe with some settlement not far off (a hint of wood-smoke and cooking-oil). Whatever it was that had attracted Tey’s attention, it might well be something of particular interest to a janarim.
Indeed, the animal let out a questioning call, unlike one that Match had ever heard him make. If he had to guess… he’d figure that maybe he was calling to another of his kind. But surely there weren’t every many janarim in Yael, even now?
