The white lady in Mead’s saddle uttered many words and expertly conveyed very little. Her answers to Yvonne’s questions only stirred the foggy swirls of mystery, mystery ever circulating around the peculiar woman. Posing questions in her perplexing presence only begat more questions than the Alerian mongrel started with, her answers beguiling. Vixen’s knowledge of Akashima only enticed the inquisitive listener, to desire a visit to such a foreign land all the more.

“I don’t need ta imagine what that would be like - a people holding fiercely ta their traditions and values, tha wheels of progress turning and separating them,” Yvonne spoke solemnly. Reminded of the dwarves she’d been raised with - how the after-effects of a dark elven imperium imposing on their culture still lingered, she contemplated who or what sought to bring about industrial change to Akashima. Would it be as severe there as her own home?

The half-and-halfling wondered what her travelling companion truly meant when she said they have a separate world to Akashima. The thought kept her quiet in philosophical deliberation with herself for many minutes.

Another world? Does she mean ta tell me her people come from another world altogether? That not be possible. Would it be a separate community isolated from tha nation that surrounds it? That be her meaning? A commune which looks out for their own and doesn’t get involved in tha matters of neighbours? What would it be like, ta settle in a foreign land which needs ta make room for yer kin? Do Akashimans and Kenku co-exist happily or do they tolerate each other out of necessity? What would it be like ta have a people ye be meant ta keep an eye on, but ye somehow managed ta misplace them?

She felt confident that last question would acquire a certain wrath from her albino companion, and so she didn’t dare ask it. They still had a ways to go on their journey yet and she wanted to preserve Vixen’s willingness to have a conversation with her. A very silent ride awaited them otherwise. Yvonne reminded herself that a conversation needed to be a back-and-forth exchange and she’d been offered much to think on. The least she could do was respond to the mystifying lady’s command.

“I would hesitate ta say Alerar be me home, but Kachuck does lie within its borders…” the slate-skinned dwarf began, “…albeit barely. Sometimes I wonder how me life might be different if only me ancestors burrowed into tha Salvaran side of our mountain range. Our mine be tha most elaborate excavation of precious gems, stone and metals in tha known world, but me own clan--”

Yvonne paused, blinked a few times. A rush of grief rose in her breast and caught her somewhat unprepared. She did not cry. Her tears had been shed this morning, but nevertheless she could not keep the sadness from her voice.

“Tha Mythrilmantle clan was pushed aside by stronger clans. They could not keep their hold on tha mine or their share of tha wealth. This be long ago, before me own time of course,” the hybrid explained. “We turned ta other means ta make a living. Me Ma owns an alehouse that doubles as a brothel and I feel no shame in saying so. She be tha most caring mother a dwarf could hope ta have.”