Lost Creek Hollow there is black coal filling up our homes

Root smiles when he speaks, though perhaps nothing more than a gentle let down.  She’d gotten a little too comfortable too fast and Mordecai is willing to appease her for the moment.  Though she can’t imagine it’s easy to talk about something like that, a loss of something vital to his daily life.  If she’d lost eyesight in one of hers, she’s not sure how she would manage.  Hunting requires a lot of skills and thus far she’s had both eyes to depend on, as well as all four limbs and her tail.  The girl’s shoulder rolls as she nods, thankful he’d at least consider it—or not reprimand her for offering.

“I am,” she tells him with a nod and her smile widens.  “I’m good at both but I much prefer big game. More rewarding.”  She’d learned a lot from her home and she feels a pang of sadness settle deep in her chest.  Seeing the death left by human hunters hadn’t settled well and the desire to target big game with others hadn’t quite returned. The knowledge of a lingering cougar doesn’t help either.  It is necessary, she knows, and in time she’ll get back into the swing of things.  Soon she knows she should be able to provide for the pack, as she had before.