The dragonkin swigged some of the wine. It was a dry and smokey red, most of the fruitiness overpowered by the tannins from the barrel it had been vinted in. When she sighed, a greyish wisp of smoke threaded out from between the half-dragon's teeth. 

Wondering if the bearded human would comment on the unnatural fickleness of the campfire, Drache finally reached for the cooked shape of the yale's heart, biting into the tough but bloody flesh and chewing slowly. Her tail curled around her thighs and she listened curiously, become less and less enthralled by the strange accent. Her eyes wandered, hinting at her rapid loss of interest in what he was saying. He was talking about some woman being lost or...something.

[color=ed1c24]"I hope for both your sake's that she's well then. I'm surprised she didn't get captured along with you."[/color] The half-dragon was hesitant to say anything negative about her new friends' leader, but the cold murder of the slaves had been a bit more cruel than Drache appreciated. At the very least it was a waste of potentially useful slaves. If her own life wasn't filled with so much travel she might be tempted to acquire a slave or two of her own. Her reptilian eyes darkened and she looked around surreptitiously to be sure none of the others were close enough to hear them.

The ear-frills on the side of her face gave a little flutter as the man handed her some choice pieces of meat, and they ate in silence for a moment. [color=ed1c24]"Beetle?"[/color] She wasn't sure she had heard correctly, and made a creepy-crawly motion with her clawed fingers like a bug walking through the air. [color=ed1c24]"Like a [i]beetle[/i] beetle? Is she like a pet?"[/color] 

Was he [i]crying[/i]? Drache looked away almost uncomfortably, unsure what to do in this situation. How did one comfort a person crying over a lost insect? Fortunately, the monster hunter provided the means for moving the conversation forwards.

[color=ed1c24]"Ah...A pleasure to meet you, Raffey. I'm Drachiathoryx..."[/color] she paused, not wanting to find out how badly he'd butcher it if he had to repeat it, [color=ed1c24]"...but you can call me Drache for short."[/color] She eyed his hand suspiciously. Shaking hands wasn't a terribly common gesture for dragons or dwarves in Pyresia, and even among those who did practice it, it was rarely offered to her. She reached for Raffey's hand and shook it, her skin hot but the scales smooth. Using the motion as an excuse, she scooted closer, tucking a wing around behind Raffey's back.

[color=ed1c24]"I'm not surprised. My kind aren't terribly common. And what about you? You look human, but you're not like these Kvaren or the other people from the Ebonfort."[/color] She looked more closely at his clothing, undressing him with her eyes.

[color=ed1c24]"Isn't Auric the name of the desert in the south?"[/color] She hadn't missed the reference and ventured the guess, waiting for him to reply while reaching for another piece of cooked yale. The night crept on around them and most of the rest went to bed, either slipping into their tents or huddling in bedrolls. Even in winter the grass seemed to be full of the sounds of whistling and droning crickets, quite different from the trilling tree frogs and nightbirds of the jungle.