Swiftcurrent Creek made your mark on me, a golden tattoo

His own thoughts simmered—the two at a crossroads of sorts that neither was keen to accept, and yet when she whirled around in his direction, a snarl and snap of her jaws toward him, he felt the blood drain from his face for a moment—staring at her with incredulation and surprise—

—as if once more, struck by Silvertongue, and he could feel the burn of the fresh scar along his eye.

His own lip curled to reveal his distaste of the entire thing—trying to imagine if he himself had treated her in such a manner, and he twisted then, his own stride quick as he made to put space between them.

As she wished.