"Yes, I do. For the younger girls, through their first hundred or so years, it is not far from the truth." Irenya answered. "I'm sure you've read the stories on the Queen Mother Barenziah. Whose to say how much of that is truth or fiction? For me, I have more stories than you have years in your life. The things I have done, or seen people do...you could say I've met many 'Galluses" in my life." She chuckled. It seemed like she was thinking about a story to share, but when her gaze moved to Ahnasha and Fendros, she hesitated. An uncertain expression came over her face, followed quickly by what almost looked like annoyance.

"But...I really shouldn't share. It would be evening by the time I got through them all." She said, dismissing the topic. 

After the weeks of travel, Ahnasha had picked up on Irenya's seeming distaste for herself and Fendros. This was just another, admittedly small incident, but Ahnasha had grown increasingly tired of it. She of course assumed the issue to be bigotry. Irenya did not seem to act any differently towards Tzirret than the rest of her pack, but that did not stop Ahnasha from making that guess. Ahnasha could have ignored it, and for a while she had, but these incidents were quickly getting on her nerves. This time, Ahnasha's fiery spirit was going to get the best of her. 

"Really, why not?" Ahnasha asked, her tone distinctly confrontational.

"Excuse me?" Irenya answered in a shocked voice. 

Ahnasha crossed her arms. "Well, I notice you were looking right at me when you suddenly excused yourself from our conversation. Why is that, Irenya?"

Irenya's expression became quickly offended, though also partially nervous. "Why...I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

Ahnasha shook her head. "No, I don't think that's true. From the moment we've met, you've been keeping your distance from us. Leaving conversations when we show up, hardly talking to us unless you absolutely have to. Me, Fendros, even Meesei. Isn't that right?" She said, her head turning to Fendros beside her.

---

Peiter shook his head, pausing a moment in his response as he observed the fire breather. For as much respect as he had for mages, he had never even attempted to learn it himself. "No, I haven't. I just...I don't know. I don't think I would be able to do it. It just seems so...I don't even know the word for it. Hard isn't really what I'm trying to say, though I have no doubt it isn't easy. I guess...unapproachable is the word. I know we Bretons are supposed to have an affinity for that sort of thing, but I've always just felt more comfortable with a weapon in my hand. It's something I can easily understand and...that makes me sound like a complete barbarian, doesn't it?"

With a slight chuckle, Peiter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I just wasn't raised around magic. No one in my family used it, but I saw soldiers all the time in Chorrol. I used to enjoy watching them train and spar with each other in the castle courtyard. It was exciting. Of course, now that I've actually went through the training myself, it just seems routine, like work. Is it the same for you with magic? Since you've been learning how to use magic, is it still exciting to you? Does it still have that mystery about it?"