He could only snipe in clumsy Drakoric, "Miss, never studied the world's number-one universal language?" Natalie stayed perfectly confident. "Don't care what number it is." She tipped her gun at the ground. "This is Drakorian soil. When in Rome, do as the Romans do!" The man's face went dark; he flicked a glance at Lucky who was baring her teeth behind Natalie, and swallowed his temper. "Fine, I'll do as Romans do. So what exactly are you here for?" Natalie didn't answer him. She turned to Cassian instead. "The little foreigner's Drakoric isn't bad—he even understands idioms." The "little foreigner" damn near shook with anger. Arrogant. This woman is too arrogant. He ground out each word, "I have a name ... " Before he could finish, Natalie waved him off. "Just give me your Drakoric name. I don't understand foreign talk." He shot her a look of pure annoyance, then lifted his chin. "My name is Cash." Natalie blinked. "Huh?" He doubled down. "I said, my name is Cash Carlsen!" So the woman's not just cocky—she's hard of hearing too? Before Natalie could react, Lucky folded in half, laughing. She laughed so hard she blasted out two more farts. But the rooster Cash at the door wasn't having it; with a thunder of wings, he launched, smacking the dog across the muzzle. He'd already watched that silly mutt hog every ounce of glory while he and Baron stood around like chumps. Now this clueless foreigner was stealing his name? The nerve. After whacking Lucky, Cash wheeled and slapped the foreigner across the face with one furious wing. Looping back, he spotted Baron chuckling and plucked a tuft of fur right off the rabbit's head. In just a few seconds, wings whirled and everyone in range got smacked at least once. The man, stunned, clutched his cheek. A blur had streaked past and—pow—he'd been slapped. He stared at the odd, oversized bird and snapped at Natalie, "Why did your bird hit me?!" Then, he jabbed a finger at Lucky. "And why is your dog laughing!" He felt personally insulted. He'd chosen that Drakoric name after studying carefully, thinking it sounded lucky—Cash, Cash, endless fortune. Now, the dumb dog laughed, and he swore a third of that fortune just evaporated. Natalie explained honestly, "Sorry, it's just that my rooster's never met a human with the same name before. Got a little emotional ... " Before she could finish, Cash, the human, broke down, "What?! "Why would you give your pet a human name!" Natalie's mouth twitched. "Looks like a pet name to me ... " Cash swung to glare at Cash, the rooster. "And how is that a rooster?"It's not like he'd never seen a chicken—since when do chickens get that big, with feathers like that, and fly that high? Natalie simply said, "That's a rooster." Cash frowned. Not one of their three animals was normal. A dog that could beat a tiger, a rooster like a phoenix, and a rabbit built like a steer. He eyed Natalie, suspicious. Was this the fabled Drakoric witchcraft? Some mysterious power from the East?? He stepped back cautiously, keeping clear of the strange beasts, then got to the point. "So, what are you here for?" Natalie met his eyes and enunciated, "My friend says they stashed something nearby and sent the two of us to pick it up." Cash's voice spiked, "There's nothing here but bare hills and blowing sand. You're at the wrong place!" Natalie didn't miss the flash of panic in his eyes. She smiled faintly. "I never said it was in this mountain." Cash rushed to shoo them off. "If it's not here, then we won't keep you. Bon voyage, safe travels!" Natalie chuckled, unhurried. "Your idioms really are decent." She tipped her chin at the pockmarked man and the Genoshan man. "Much better than theirs." Cash preened a little over his Drakoric, just about to speak again when Natalie added, "No wonder you're scrawny yet somehow ended up the leader of this bunch. So it's the language skills, huh?" Cash's face went ugly. Of course it wasn't that—it was ... He shot her a wary look. "I'm from Victoria. What's wrong with being the boss? If you've got something to say, say it straight. I don't do circles!" He hated the Drakorian habit of talking in riddles. This woman clearly meant: Did he stumble on something that made these people rally behind him? Watching his reactions, Natalie was basically sure now—the punk had found their warehouse. She just didn't know how he'd done it. Natalie studied his face—pale skin, healthy color in his cheeks, and glossy blond hair that looked freshly styled.