The naga spits onto the floor of the hut, contempt burning behind her eyes. Pen lets out a sigh and glances over at Loran, “They really don’t seem keen on talking, eh young one?” “Not particularly, but why would they be?”Loran sighs and shakes her head, turning and slithering outside for fresh air. Her breath steams from the chill. The village is covered in a velvety layer of hoarfrost this morning, hiding the blood and muddy hoofprints from the previous night&rsquo