Saga watched him, her focus on his eyes to see if she could see what was going on behind them. Part of what made her a good leader was an awareness of not only the spoken word but of the unspoken. The shifting of weight, or clenching of a fist, the level of sincerity in a smile or laugh and there was very little that was completely trustworthy, but perhaps that was due to her complete lack of trust in anything even slightly religious.
“I’ll have to see how much they eat, drink, use and I won’t hesitate. Any attempts to convert any of my Tribesmen and women will result in removal and I don’t feel pushed to be gentle.” Saga murmured, irritated by the use of the word ‘sister’, she was no one’s sister but Abbie’s and someone making assumptions annoyed her.
“Come, I’ll take you to the Tollhouse.” Saga replied, turning the horse and flipping her black hood back into place.