Larksong Grotto fredonman

mireille grunted at that. "be careful, kel. someone dat crazed might bite." but this stranger, this lestan mayfair, lay sleeping and solemn now, almost boyish.
the red seawolf groaned, stretching her aching body with its odd simmering out upon the ground. quietly she considered kel again, kel of the birch bark eyes and the reticent manner.
why did she look at him so? mireille shut her eyes and yawned.