Dragoncrest Cliffs But what to put with my heart

when meerkat appeared, mireille looked up.
and was disappointed at once.
for a moment her eyes were open, vulnerable. hurt, all over again. when chacal spoke, the obsidian found that she did not say the things that mireille would have!
fish.
she imagined her little brother in the cold, wherever njord had chosen to drag them, outside a pack of over twenty strong! and at last her anger showed, tensing in the pretty lines of her face, the cold emerald sea of her stare.
"swordfish be your son, but he be my brot'er," mireille seethed, bidding herself stay physically calm for the sake of this meeting. "your husban' disrespected de leadership of dis pack on purpose an' insulted our ability down to demands dat were not his to make."
her voice would have been a monotone were it not for the vein of barely reined rage pulsing in the shadowed places of each word. "i agree wid chacal. stingray an' sword can decide where dey will stay." they were young, but infants no longer. if meerkat wanted to show this weakness in being bound to a man, then let her sons come to manhood now. today.
package deal! mireille wanted to spit. instead she did not; she only sat taller and colder with nothing more to say, an iron front for the pain and fear that frothed like bitter waters inside her.
her eyes wanted to waver, to turn to chacal, but she did not.
the pack would judge. they would not be present for it.