Lost Creek Hollow the black hills, the colly

the language again, fluttering, unfamiliar. silvertongue felt herself look back toward the woman with the poured-granite legs, feeling a quickening just behind her spirit. but she shied away from the kinship, at least from now; she sought out her confidence and walked carefully along the river. monarchs glistened proudly upon the bank. "here i come to commune," the sharpfang purred, voice pitched to carry beneath the growing roar of the waterfalls' roaring cascade.