Silver Creek Not a woman's job

oh, here we go. addison steels herself for the usual tangent about the woman's dead husband, affecting some semblance of calm as cyclone goes on. she murmurs wordless assent and dissent whenever necessary and appropriate, and shakes her head when cyclone finishes, a click of her tongue demonstrating pity.

it is a great sorrow that he left us so suddenly, addison agrees, her icy gaze settled upon cyclone's face. may the lord see fit to bless you with a man, soon, so that you may bear children. how else was this harlot to be of use to the odolfs? as much as her distaste lingers, addison cannot deny that she is a well-built woman, and her pups with grayson would be a handsome brood.

the scent of deer reaches her nostrils, and she lifts her head, directing cyclone to look in the direction her chin points. there, she murmurs, staring at a small copse of evergreens and berry bushes. they might find luck there.