Two Rivers Isle my guns

and the rogue knew it, and blistered with pride and anger beneath what he felt to be a man's analysis of him. no time truly to think of it; he was lunging and biting, his smaller frame and faster limbs allowing him to swerve round and cut at the animal's haunches, crowding it toward boone.
half tangled in the brush, eyes rolling, it struck out with knife-like hooves against the wolves, bleating in defiance and terror.
blood, drying at the corners of his mouth.
boone too was observed.