Spotted Eagle Mountain evermore

his face brings to light a dim memory, smells, blurred faces. nothing concrete, and yet he was there; the man confirms it himself. his next question receives a slight cant of her ears, a stilling of her curiosity, wariness. "yes." she answers, just as plainly as he. "she is dead now." her mother; star-speckled night; beloved daughter, once, father-killer, once. these titles, things, will go forever unknown to her. she is only a shadow, a dim memory of warmth and milk and that striking image of unseeing eyes.

"you knew her." she establishes, wanting, needing to know what he does, and at once entirely unwilling to ask.