Behind Corb, his face dark with suppressed anger as any thundercloud, stood Vorkan, the village shaman. "What else did this trader ask of you? What mo...e did that loose tongue of yours let spill of our affairs?" He only asked whether his caravan was the first this season," Mak answered calmly, biting back an angry retort. Vorkan had not endeared himself to Mak in the short time that he had been the shaman of Village Wallen."And you answered him, of course?" Vorkan's beady eyes examined Mak with. The hunter has been blown to kingdom come, and covered in black soot, he stands before the camera wearing just his pokka-dot boxers. He grins; he blushes; he covers himself with both hands as he makes the universal body gesture for “I really gotta pee.”Got that picture in mind?That was me.Without the boxers.“Hahahahaha ha,” I meekly giggled with a machine gun cadence.“But his vocabulary is a little bit larger than I have been led to believe,” she said as she sized me up.Hopefully, not because. More

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