Witch Hunt could not be sure if she was pregnant. There was a good chance she was not. Her body was, unfortunately, extremely unreliable. The poisons she had ingested over the years had left her weak and prone to illness; she could only imagine how difficult it would make pregnancy. There was the chance she would not be able to carry them or that they would be born weak, useless. Witch Hunt was not going to take that chance. She had found a suitably strong male to father them, but she needed something extra; she needed her potential brood to be blessed. Using various contacts to gather information, Witch Hunt had decided on one of these powerful, near mythical Kimeti to track down. Now she trudged through a rather nasty patch of swamp, the dark murky water around her no doubt hiding a menacing reptile or two. She paid it no heed, and hardly looked concerned as she was forced to plunge through mud and water to reach more solid ground.
