Two Rivers Isle my guns

safety in numbers meant gang-pressing if necessary. suddenly colt saw a way to reinstate himself with red. not time to think of that now, nor how she seemed to loathe him these days. better not to think of the twist of her mouth or the sheen of her eyes —
colt tore forward, rustling the hapless animal right into boone's waiting hippo-mouth, if they were lucky. briggs himself snapped, caught, flesh tearing and blood filling his mouth.
he remembered the taste of wolf.
and colt thought in that moment he had not tasted anything so sweet as that recalled flavor.