true to her word, muskrat returned.
she said nothing to any creek wolf; she brought herself back over the borders several times, towing what she had hunted on the way: streamfish, grouse, squirrels, and the very lucky find of an elk haunch, coyote-chewed a little but still boasting a good deal of fat.
these she spent the day caching in various places, avoiding any talk with others that was not necessary. she kept the talk of her experiences silent. if there was eventual truth to tell, then nature would spell it for her.
by eveninglight she was back at her den, and before nightfall she was curling into the skins beneath the old tree, exhausted as she replayed every moment of the pale eagle's time with her on that tall mountain.
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