@Hex and @Makono had by now been told of the raid declared by the man tousaint, who had since defected from the montagne wolves.

she suggested that when this night had come, that the vale be surrounded in silence on four points. sentries watchful. were war to be hinted at in any regard, they would invade from all sides.

a night spent in observation was worth the great cost blood would demand.

alert, yellow eyes watched the dark figure carved here and there in deep burgundy. her eyes too, intrigued the warrior, this wholly colorful stranger who scented their border and left it behind.

after some time, muskrat detached herself from the obsidian pour and approached with narrowed eyes, silent in demand for explanation.

a second girl emerged, multi-hued and with her eyes upon the first. kin? muskrat wondered, her sunflower eyes moving unhurriedly between the two. the weaker one brought nothing. the stronger brought a gathering of small things over which muskrat's stare traveled with pointed interest.

hunger was their cloak, travelworn bodies proclaiming more than words ever could.

these ones held the look of the warrior herself, and the swamp panther in her heart answered. "this shadow ridge. hex is seer. i muskrat, sentinel," careful proclamation in her words. a pause. "you speak?" addressed to both of them, her voice a rough susurration in the shadowland's eternal dark.

accipitra. anathema.

the second claimed to speak with those beyond, or perhaps those unheard.

"stay. do what is told." there was no greater transaction than that. "save strength for training." muskrat said to anathema.

she turned then, indicating that they should follow. soon the shadows would eat away the fact they had stood there at all. it was a good land hex had chosen, and were they devoted, they would understand too its eldritch power.

grandmother had once known healers.

she had known witches also.

witching was considered a perversion of the true spiral, a backwards dance which defied helpful spirits and bid darker ones forward. clan matrons wasted no time at all in putting a witch to death, though muskrat had grown to suspect that such accusations were sometimes rather false.

"go. find hex when you settle," muskrat instructed when they had come to the core of the shadowlands, its darkness warmed to crushed velvet in the spare light which managed to find itself upon their faces.

a woman named owlclover from the camp of racing water had once been accused of witching the earth's power. how convenient for grandmother gorseberry that owclover had been the daughter of her greatest enemy, ivory fern.

shamed, discredited for having given birth to a witch, ivory fern was sent away in shame after the execution. with no daughter to carry her line, it was the warrior six kills who was given the task of reestablishing a tie with gorseberry's clan.

and it was muskrat she had offered. grandmother was cunning. ivory fern had been well-liked, far more than she or her own daughters. such respect was a threat to ambition,as owlclover would have followed ivory fern as clan matron, thus gaining more power for their clan.

that the camp of racing water would be handed to a man was something gorseberry had known would happen. he was war chief, but he could not lead. muskrat's marriage would have gained status, land, and rank for gorseberry's people. there she would have led as matron while six kills retained his place as war ruler. muskrat was a lesser daughter. grandmother had reminded her of this always. yellow vine was the girl's mother. mica leaf was to follow yellow vine, but the other sisters blue chert and star scallop, would inherit two portions of the village as well.

there was no place for muskrat, and an accusation of witching had eventually led to cloud singer's death.

the swamp panther placed little faith in these commands. if anathema was a witch, let her craft be in service to hex and to his land. muskrat would only see it done.