Zulmire: Dat be true. *takes the pouch from Desiree, then sits on the floor, scattering the contents over the floor of his tent* D’ya want th’ head witch-doctor to wed you before you leave? Is entirely possible. You be talkin to him, he do it. *begins to flick through the supplies, picking up one of the bottles, lightly shaking it* Anti-venom? *narrrows his eyes* Dis not be for illness… o your kind.
