"Sounds like it might be kind of a handful," Juliette commented, tearing the leg of one of the roast chickens they had been given. They were in the stables preparing to ride out to investigate the last sighting of the creature. Juliette had outfitted herself with a leather coat and a shortsword as well as a small buckler and a shortbow. None of them were as fine as the weapons she had lost when she had been sucked into the the Cursed court but the were well made and serviceable. The took a bite from the chicken and chewed enthusiastically. They had been down to what they could hunt for the last couple of days and game had not been plentiful this late in the season. 

"I've heard legends of laughing dogs, down beyond Arad Lund," she admitted, though she though they were fanciful tales. She stripped the bone with her teeth and dropped the bone into the a greased sack. The bones could be boiled to make soup particularly if they could scrounge some vegetables. She washed her hands with some of the rough saddle soap and rinsed them in a pale of tepid water. Then she unslung her lute and began to play a few bars of Sir Jackass, a tune which had been catching on like the red pox everywhere she had performed it. She digressed into a slight variation, decided she didn't like it and stuck it up in a more heroic melody.