Lead us to Meridell

Of course, she had not.
As the pair bolted through the forest, leaping over logs and leaping from rocky ledges, the silence was once again replaced with the sounds of the forest, birds and chattering squirrels and heavy breathing and footsteps as Crayg struggled to keep up with the Elven stranger. Finally, though, they burst from the underbrush, gasping for air; And there, before them, lay the beast.

Its form was mangled, leaking blackened goo onto the road. An axe that glowed softly with a golden light was wedged into it's open maw, and it's side was split open in a clean blow. It was dead-- very much so, in fact. Petunia, however, was not, much to both of their dismay; and despite being injured, with deep gouges in her shoulder and across her lower back. She seemed unbothered. She just continued to root through the dead merchant's wares, shuffling through the items with mild interest.

"Petunia!" Crayg rushed to her side, falling to his knees before her and touching her armor. Petunia spun and whacked him away with a snarl, squinting at him with malice.
"You left me, you asswipe. Now this loot is mine."
"Petunia, I'm so sorry, I--"
"Shut up, Crayg. Carry this."
She thrust a heavy book into his hands. "It looks magic-y. we could sell it."

"Excuse me, ma'am..."
Both paused. They turned to the voice; the elf that had ultimately lead Crayg back to Petunia was standing stiffly over the body of the creature. His eyes were wide with fear and confusion. He pointed to the corpse. "Did... you kill that?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Petunia shrugged, turning away and returning to her looting. Crayg quickly began putting the book into the backpack, his hands still trembling. "I killa lotta things."

"No one has ever killed a soul seeker... not since..."
"Since what? spit it out, I've not got all day." Petunia pocketed a rather shiny Ruby.
"Since the God Atlas banished them to their home millennia ago."

Crayg's attention turned to the Elf. He was pale, taken aback by the slain creature before him. Petunia looked over her shoulder with a snort. "Right." She muttered. "Gods? Twun't no god who killed that beast. That's my axe in it's mouth. It's got my name, right there on the hilt."

The man's voice trembled. He stared, wide-eyed, eyes darting between the monster, and petunia, and then once again the monster. "I need to take you to the Elder Mother."

"Fine, whatever." Petunia crossed to the creature, clearly satisfied with her plunder, and drew her axe out with a soft grunt, tossing it over her shoulder. Black sludge paints the ground, gushing from the now-open wound of the beast and flying from her axe. She fixed it to her back and turned, arms crossed, to the elf. "Lead the way then. I haven't got all day."

And so they went to Meridell.