The old priestess remembered all this. Now she dared not show the slightest disrespect. After approaching King Ghidorah, she prostrated herself once more on the scorching ground, the hot air tossing the loose white hair at her temples.
Even her voice trembled as she said, "We once showed disrespect to a dragon. The guilt lies entirely with the Painted Dog Tribe, but I am willing to suffer the dragon's fire in my tribe's place. I ask only that you spare the innocent members here."
The old priestess still believed Viserys had come to settle the old grievances over the Painted Dog Tribe's coveting the dragon and plotting to harm the dragonseed Nettles and her followers' offshoot tribe. She hoped she could bear the guilt alone.
After all, she was the High Priestess of the Painted Dog Tribe. Though the chief and the newly appointed young, beautiful priestess had stripped her of her authority and sent her out to roam with the raiding parties, she still did not want her tribe to come to harm.
Besides, only the chief had mistreated her. The leader of this small tribe was the chief's son, and he had trusted her deeply since childhood. That was precisely why he had invited her to join his party, never worrying that she would hold them back. If she could give something for them in the end, she would find comfort in that.
King Ghidorah flapped his vast wings, covered in thick black scales. The rush of hot air sent the old priestess's ragged robes snapping. Viserys jumped down from King Ghidorah's neck, his boots landing on solid ground, and asked in an even voice, "What do you mean?"
The old priestess clearly had not expected that response, so she briefly recounted the conflict between the dragonseed Nettles