Arrow Lake Drifters

lótë bit her tongue, holding back her words. a guarded mask of detachment settled over her features, shutters being drawn over a window. the mother -- perhaps even stepmother to this young man, though she didn't think on that too long -- rose to her stained paws. 

she circled him, sniffing. poking. prodding here and there. 

at last, she stood before him and simply gazed at him. 

there was something there. something, but what? 

the look of his father perhaps, or something from the other world of spirits?

"can you prove it?"