Redhawk Caldera A new world for you, my friend

another low grumble rolls up in the base of her chest. doesn’t come all the way; sticks in her throat and dies there. least he has the good grace to thank her for it. she’d be fine without, long as he kept his teeth where they should be. and he does.

“rather not pull you from another lake,” borya rumbles, and turns away. “keep off the cliffs. repayment enough.”

she starts along the water’s edge. might stay in the caldera for a time, might not. doesn’t care much what took the bite out of his face to begin with, other than the obvious: more than a little chance it’ll keep disrupting her, and she doesn’t care to spend the time hunting it down. or the energy spilling its guts.

she leaves the half-eaten trout on the sand. not so far. if he’s got a nose, paying attention, he’ll see it.

not much. still more than she needs to offer.