Lost Creek Hollow Bluegill

It’s not chamaco, he had wanted to snap back to her.

The redtail boy shifted on his paws before he swiped his tongue across his whiskers.

Shardik, he repeated the alias to her. The man who had met him at the borders first had been called Sandy. Swordfish thought of the beach and the sand. He thought of his brother’s goldsun fur near the edge of the water. He thought of the cries of the seagulls from the cliffs where they watched. In the depths of his stomach there was a twist of pain.

The three-legged wolf instructed him to follow them. With his head low, the young seafarer moved to stand behind the duo.

What’r yer names? he drawled in question. The three-leg had said something about a Silvertongue.