Lost Creek Hollow But this is exhausting, this love

"si, mariposa." silvertongue was quiet a moment. "i think i ate bad fish." it was not a lie; she had discovered a trout carcass on the riverbank she had then consumed with gusto, gripped by a ravenousness she had never felt before. "just resting." at last she rolled to face him, chests pressing, pelts melding. "what did germanicus say?" she asked softly, dreading the answer to her marrow.