Duck Lake The sound won't carry

Berna was quiet with assumed contemplation, long enough for Tauris to register they had scarcely a native tongue between them.

But she did know the name voiced next. Her body gives a little tilt of recognition and the water turns in acknowledgement to push up the stony embankment towards the half-breed. The mahpiya.

“Karsheen,” She repeated (badly). “You are friend to Reverie?”

Karsheen had been home to the gilded girl for a time. Or maybe Karsheen was the Creek, Tauris was fuzzy about that part and knew little of the valley's packs, as she took great lengths to skirt their borders.

Only, she’d done a piss-poor job here, because, as she now gathered, this lake belonged to pack Karsheen.