Lost Creek Hollow mezcal

Shadowpup crept closer to Tia Plata’s bedside, though she adverted her gaze uncomfortably. “See me?” the juvenile asked, cautious of her intentions.

Silvertongue explained and continued to speak.

Confusing.

Shadowpup’s eyes traced the line of Silvertongue’s haunch down to her stump as she gathered her thoughts.

“Papa said the same thing. That he would answer questions I had.” However, she had never asked anything of Crowfeather. The girl’s yellow gaze shifted to the other side of the den, still avoiding any contact. She felt horribly in the dark with the expectation to carry the burdens and mistakes of her parents.

“I know… that you’re my mom. My real mom.” Shadowpup shuffled her feet together.

She had gone looking when Silvertongue. Even evoked the word Mom, calling for her. But Silvertongue never answered.

“Why did you just… just leave?” Shadowpup asked as she felt the beginnings of anger begin to boil.