The Tangle gymnopédie no.1

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The wildfire spoke in rough ways. Not the way Kigipigak’s voice was hardened, not the way her mother’s voice had croaked with grief or anguish. This was something of the physical state of her, Sakhmet presumed — or perhaps an unusual accent, learned from somewhere way off.

Did she know?

Likely not with the way she had been swept into her whirlwind of adventurous joy with the traveling of her snowy counterpart.

I did not…but I am sorry. And it was genuine, even if she may have not had anything to apologize for yet. She was familiar with how it could look to have a loner (let alone a pair) creep next to your territory.

Are you with them or them? Vaguely worded, but her head swung in one direction towards the coast on the first and towards the rise on the second.