Kintla Flatlands pussyfoot

The voice made her jump. She turned and nearly jumped again, thinking her Uncle Atticus had suddenly appeared, apparently cognizant and verbal once more. She quickly realized it wasn't her uncle, nor anybody she knew, despite the fact that he would have blended in well with the plateau's primarily black population. She regarded the stranger warily, legs bracing stiffly.

"No," she answered truthfully, eyes following as he shifted nearer to the carcass and sniffed it. "Do you?"