Greatwater Lake seventy-ninth

the desert thought this was their land? zharille snorts. she looks one way, the other, then down at the dirt beneath her feet. she drags a fist through it, leaving scores.

when her gaze levels with the little man again she has something close to humor in her eyes.

mine. always mine.

what was he going to do about it? the fur of her nape rippled; she kept watch of his retinue in her periphery in case of sudden movement.

little man want lake? must take. or trade. already little man took daughters. keep daughters—racharra, she choose you. the humor has left her eyes by now.

lake, mine.