Whitefish River Here we go

He didn't look at her the way he once had.

He was less vulture and more crow by now. Picked up the pieces as he went along with some semblance of intelligence. He had learned a few things down the mountain, even more around Big Woman.

He deferred to her in those moments, hunched and slinking but more like a guilty child. He wished to come closer and sniff at her with a curiosity, even if she might strike him. She was wet and it drenched the scents of any he might have known.

Was The Big Man still around?

He blinked with owlish eyes at her.