"The old shaman woman?" A middle-aged man asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
"Yes," Sullivan replied, his tone earnest. "Do you happen to know where she lives, sir?" he pressed further, hopeful for some direction.
The man tilted his head, his expression skeptical. "There are many shamans in this town, young man. Some are old, some middle-aged, and others still young. Without more detail, it's hard to tell you who you're referring to," he said, his voice tinged with mild exasperation.
Sullivan hesitated for a moment, then elaborated, "It's an elderly woman I'm looking for. She usually roams alone and has long grey hair. Does that sound familiar?"
