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Nhim certainly hopes that this is the right farm. She's visited several on her way here with no luck, and the deer she carries in her maw is starting to taste a bit off. The dragon lands in an ungainly fashion at the Cooper farm, dropping her catch with a thud and peering into the house's upper story window. "Hello?" she calls, experimentally, then mutters to herself, "I hope no one has those damned sticks again, if this isn't the right farm..."

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"Smell would not be terribly necessary for a creature with flight," Oliver agrees - and manages to show off his learnings in the process.

"Unfortunately, they are demonic as well as bestial; dogs turn rabid and horses spook if they get too close to a fox-skin. Men...do much the same."

"Rabid?" she asks, sounding blank. "What do you mean, rabid?"

"'Uncontrollable' - the word comes from the disease known as rabies, which would be the province of rat-skins. Rabies is transmitted by bite; it causes frothing at the mouth, madness, and eventual death."

There's a hint of roughness to his tone when he finishes his description, though his expression remains as composed as ever.

Nhim nods as she listens. "Foaming mouth. I've seen a handful of animals with it myself, and always taken care to kill them. It doesn't affect dragons, but the humans are quite afraid of it."

Oliver tilts his chin in the barest of nods. Very afraid.

"That was kind-hearted of you to do so, Nhim," he murmurs after a moment.

"There isn't any cure, at least that I know of. Why leave them to keep suffering and spread the disease?"

Oliver nods again. Very logical. Which makes his thoughts turn to her god once more.

"What offering did you leave upon finding the temple? Something from your hoard?"

Nhim nods, then tilts her head as she digs through her memory. "A sum of a gold and a sword. It seemed fitting, given how warfare is one of Adikos's domains."

"I pray I do not pry - but was this offering made for anything in particular?"

"Well, it was during a time of fighting. Given that I was in the area near where the temple was, I thought it couldn't hurt to visit and ask for luck in our next fight."

"I hope it went well?"

Nhim snorted in amusement. "I'm not dead, am I?"

Oliver opens his mouth to say that one can survive a battle and still lose a war, but reconsiders (it doesn't seem like her side loses many wars), and shakes his head.

Nhim chuckles, in an odd, throaty way. "We won. It wasn't exactly a deciding battle in that particular war, but we won, and it did help."

"A climb over briar and jagged rock to reach that glorious peak," Oliver mutters, his urge to be poetic overcoming his urge to be comprehended.

It does that sometimes.

Nhim just blinks, her ears pricking forward. "Pardon?"

"I meant--" then he shrugs, smiling a bit, "little matter. I was testing my poetical sensibilities - not that they were terribly sharp to begin with."

"Oh. I'm not much for poetry, I admit. ...Though I suppose songs could be considered poetry, in a way. Perhaps that just means I prefer it with music."

Oliver's tone has an extra layer of warmth to it that very rarely has.

"Poetry and music enter the same room - that being the soul - through different doors. One is auditory, the other visual. But the truly great works become as twins; a great song will be poetic at its core, a great poem will have music in it."

Nhim tilts her head as she listens, then nods. "Yes, I can see your point there. I take it that you have a particular enjoyment of both?"

Oliver's smile turns a bit embarrassed. "I fancied myself a poet before I realized the Lord called me. Obviously God wished to rid the world of wretched verse."

"Better to try than not, though, I suppose."

"Anything was better than the Army - following the family tradition was Henry's job, not mine. Only got one or two pieces published, though I'd written enough to cover my walls twice over."

A light, amused snort. "Youth and its follies."

"You didn't want to join the Army?" she asks, sounding curious. "In my world, being called to fight is generally something unavoidable."

"Fremmanland is not officially at war with anyone, we have no draft. They always need men in the colonies, however, to keep peace and order."

That's what they're ideally there for, at any rate.