Rising Sun Valley skwila

a flinch; a clench of her jawline. why did this man seem to hate her so much? they did not so much as know the names of one another. whatever had flared in her body now cooled beneath frustration and the ever-present pinch of hunger.
why was he asking about caracal? heda bit the inside of her jaw until metallic heat burst in her mouth; "he's dead."
her breath was ragged; it cut the corners of her throat when she breathed in.
but she did not weep and she did not waver, silvershadowed gold burning into the resentful gilt of the boy's face.