Lion Head Mesa Doves and the boy

maggie had been brought home presumably by the guard and satsu, and laid upon a small flat outcropping of stone low to the floor of a single room. it was an austere place, but clusters of half-dried flowers here and there, little stones, pillows of rabbit-fur — these things were hers.
she cracked one eye open as the woeful yearling boy came upon her. he reeked of green things, and satsu, and somehow blood. the cuts in her forehead had begun to burn. crowfeather blurred together.
"weren't yew entertained last night!" she exclaimed weakly. "tell me: did jawa'ir make yew a man after the dark fell? oi was takin' a bet wive meself, oi was."
maggie faded quickly after that, sagging limply against her cot. "oi sees such devils swirling above me, sir. they've come to take me, they 'ave."