With the introductions gone through and explored, both parties were ready to cooperate further. The whistling iron was located in what this tribe referred to as 'hell'.
"Sounds like a nice picnic," Arila joked, and knew that her ass-cheeks would soon sweat out liters of liquids.
This 'hell' was deeper underground without a doubt, it wasn't within close proximity. Yet these snakes had heard its whistle for ages now, even adapted this endless song, to the point where whistling was a part of their language!
In other words, this tribe knew their way around really well, and decades ago they even helped the terranidans fetch these minerals. History binded their fate at the moment, so the level of cooperation felt godsent.
In the meantime, Gustav walked behind a few of these albino ladies. As he watched their fatty, but short ass-cheeks bounce left and right, he couldn't help plotting an idea.
