Lost Creek Hollow we would only hold on to let go

Hush, no. I'm constantly struggling to remember how to write in past tense because I don't remember the last time I did it, SO. We can be messes 2gether.

"Quill," Bhreac said immediately, having spent the hour before coming here trying to remember what Eshe had said she introduced herself as, realizing it would've been sorely embarrassing to roll up looking to join a sister whose name she didn't know. She thought about explaining that Quill wasn't Eshe's actual name, because Bhreac was certain to slip up at some point, but that was probably more Eshe's place than hers. "We look alike if you listen to us both natter on about nothing long enough," she added wryly.

The next question put her back into focus — wittering really was Eshe's modus operandi, not hers. She tended to be more economical when it came to phrasing, especially when it came to strangers, but she was nervous, and she hadn't had much cause to be nervous in her life. Even when things had gone south at home, she hadn't been nervous; there'd been too much to do, too much to consider. Now there was room for nothing but nerves, but at least the straightforward ask was something to grab onto.

"Not to lean too heavily on my sister, but she's all I have left, so her opinion means double what it ever did to me. And she feels you all are trustworthy, good wolves," Bhreac said, "and I really need that. Which... is less why you need me and more why I need you. I, uh, am a useful hunter — I'm good at keeping track of prey, good at organizing. I'm," she paused, licking her lips and taking a beat to consider before continuing. "I don't seek it out, but I found recently that I am useful in the event of physical altercations. I'm stronger than I look. And I swear to you I have never in my life spoken this much in a go, shit."