Sleepy Fox Hollow nothing

This barbing did not sit well with Anselm. He enjoyed River less now -- particularly since she'd managed to somehow broach his only sore topic.

He exhaled through his nose in a huff. A glint of Wylla's proud stare reflected in his yellow eyes, which now set upon River in distrust. He said if he was lucky, he'd have another four. Anselm was not a boy to lie, so he answered forwardly.

But just because he was not a liar did not mean he was kind. Why are you poking at my papa? Are you jealous yours isn't still around? This was a total guess on Anselm's part, a stab in the dark intended to thrust the barbs back in River's splintery court.

His banter fell way after time, for River was too skilled a wordsmith to counter for long. Sensing his resources depleted, Anselm skulked to the heart of Paleo and nursed his verbal wounds.