Bitterroot Valley [m] there's nothin better than shootin a fella

For a while they ran together with Indra in the lead, and she felt more free than ever before; caked in coyote blood and with a fully belly, even the wind whipping at her face did not sour her mood.

It was Colt, as he stepped across her path, who strangled what goodness remained. He spoke of the place they were headed for as if he knew it - this Natigvik - and said no to the plan of raiding the place; Indra didn't want to give up so soon, and petulance won out.

She ignored Colt until he sang for two others - and when she heard them named, she stopped and rebounded closer to him. They were to meet with these others?

Colt's wink made her turn deferentially away, to watch the horizon line for signs of life.