Morningside Cuesta i want tomorrow to mean more than today

"which one is yers?" natigvik had some sort of ring to it he knew he couldn't pronounce. it felt — foreign, and triggered colt's xenophobia. he liked the sound of moonglow, though he found it far too soft for his liking.
smoothly he moved away from the trees, arcing back into the cuesta. she was the type to be wooed and courted. but colt briggs knew he couldn't hold up a deception that long. "might'n set down roots here. at least for a bit."