"Dagger Galla, the dagger."
Her bird was muffled by the cage cover, but she knew what it meant. The obsidian dagger she'd been given by her mother. It had a keen edge and didn't stop biting. Once Galla had driven the knife into an imperial guard and the blade had carried on digging through his flesh, dissecting his heart. That had been in her reckless years, she'd been barely two thousand years old then.
"Where is the damn thing ?" She muttered to herself.
The dagger was already in her belt and had been for hours. Her heart was beating fast and a slight mist seemed to fill her vision. All just normal signs of stress for a hybrid in the City.
"Silly Galla has dagger."
"Enough bird, or I'll be having bird soup for breakfast."
Packets and small twists of paper were still in the pockets of her coat, she'd prepared to leave her house at least half a dozen times. She'd found four of the ancient powders, guaranteed to kill anything that lived and breathed, though not her of course. Other packets held lesser spells and enchantments, but still beyond the powers of most to create and use. Galla was pleased that most in the City, viewed her as some kind of harmless old apothecary. In reality, she could probably take on a small army and win the day.
"Hat and I'm ready." She muttered.
