Redhawk Caldera runner, runner

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The girl, meant to be a prize— known by all she ever met by the River— was far out of her element dealing with the wolves of the caldera. She didn't truly expect mom-wolf with the dangling tits of litters-past to relate very much to her, but even the child seemed highly disinterested; a major blow to the French runner's ego.

"I did not get to do much else," she said in a small voice through stiffened lips, her head lowering in anticipatory dejection. "I am not having Authority problem, madame, I swear this. It is my parents wanting me to be... breeding stock, I am not happy with."

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