Yeeeah, the dog didn't like that much. Floppy ears prick up, as much as they're able, and then press flat to her head. Big dark eyes get bigger and the dog whines and slides off the tree.

It's talking to her and she can't smell it and it's everywhere and she's running back to Jordan like a little kid that goes running back to Mommy.

The young woman makes a single, soft comforting sound and scratches the dog's ears again. It doesn't fix everything, but the bloodhound looks a little calmer for it. She doesn't look much calmer for Mort's explanation either, eyebrows lifted high and curious.

Wary, too. It isn't often Jordan comes across a Pantheon she hasn't heard of. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment, still petting the dog's head, "I don't recognize that name. What culture is it?"