Snippet #2685420

"As attractive as such an idea may be, he is no more a slave than he was before," Natalia responded rather curtly. Though, as Weaver successfully awoke from his previously mortal injury, she turned towards him and offered the tiniest of smiles, though the expression was more a result of seeing the ritual successful than knowing the man was okay.

"I see you are awake. You are lucky I came as quickly as I did, wait any longer and you'd likely've gone mad when you woke up," a hint of smugness crept across the witch's face. As the bandit began to speak Dalca nodded, though she began stepping through the desiccated corpses with her eyes lowered. A thin longsword and a small whittling knife were the only things picked from the bodies that she bothered to keep, the former sheathed and its scabbard fastened to her waist and the latter placed in a pocket.

With her newfound loot, the witch followed Weaver towards whatever camp he spoke of. With her abode destroyed by the former captors, she had nowhere to go other than with them. After all, she still had a mission to fulfill, and the dread witch was now presented with an opportunity to further her ambitions.