Yanarym took a piece of ripped paper from her satchel and placed it under the plate of cookies.
"I'll trade this to you instead," she said and turned to Rosil.
Rosil maintained her graceful demeanor and glanced at the paper on the table.
"Young Miss, this isn't a game. You should go home and playhouse instead."
"I will give this information to you, but it is not for free. It's the fee for my first or might be last interaction with you." Yanarym ignored Rosil's underlying warning and took another cookie.
"My requestion is very simple, Rosil."
Rosil waited.
She closely studied this mysterious girl's movement and speech trying to know where in the cluster of the society she belonged into.
She was an adorable girl, appearance likewise. Her hair and her skin did not belong to Menotalian's physical characteristics. Her speech was fluent in Menotalian's accent.
