“Don’cha know ya puttin’ ya self in dangerous company Drakkari?” The thick gravelly voice came. There was a pause in his speech but no time to talk. “ ‘Ow well dah ya really know dis mon? Deh Papa, Zul’Sowdi?” The form of the witch doctor, Zul’Khan, began to take shape before her. He sat cross legged slowly coming into focus as though a mist were dissipating from around him. “Death dun be dah end ah all,” he grinned as though he were answering a question she might have asked.
“Ya ‘ave no reason ta fear me Drakkari. Ah simply come ta warn ya ah deh man wid which ya be keepin ya company. Ah unda’stand him explained away why deh loa be angry wid ‘im, ‘e even paid dem back ten fold ta regain his standin’ wid dem, and wid ‘is own blood. Him last apprentice not be livin no more, lost ‘ere in dah Vale. Him have many apprentices. Her wasn’t dah first and her won’t be dah last. W’ere do ya t’ink ah learned dah curse dat be effectin’ ya afta all?” A wide grin pulled across his face and he leaned slightly forward with his hands pressed to his knees. “Him knew w’at deh curse was right away w’en him seen it didn’t ‘e?” He sat back up. “Ah not be livin in ya world no more, ya got not’in ta fear ah me..but ya makin’ ya bed wid ah witch docta, dah one’s ya knew didn’ treat ya well, why ya t’ink one dat be ah stranga gonna be any betta? Take dis as ah warnin’, keep it ta yaself and watch how him act…” The last sentence sounded more like an echo as the black mists pulled him back again.
She snapped awake, the moon was still in the sky and nothing but the crickets and creeping creatures made a sound. The hut was pitch black and the only thing to be heard inside was the steady breathing of the man in the alcove. Strings of beads and bones acted as a makeshift divider that separated his sleeping room from the rest of the hut. Her fingers curled in the thick pelts he had pulled from his own bed to lend her for sleeping.
Mooshki looks over at the sleeping figure for a good long while, studying the rise and fall of his chest to be sure he was asleep and not faking it. Once she was satisfied he was passed out, she turns her gaze up to the roof of the hut over their heads. Her mind mulled over memories and thoughts. Yes, the spirit had a point. But so did her spear. He was a Witch doctor, he dealt with the good and the bad, just as she did in her own way. He was just as dangerous as he was helpful, she thought to herself. But the warning wasn't given lightly, she knew, however, she was also skilled at distractions, so was it really a warning? Or was the spirit upset at it's fate? She got no further sleep that night, thinking things through. The little raptor slept on, curled up against her ribs, oblivious to it all.