Deepwood Weald [m] red flax

The stranger’s gaze was not kind, it was bold. While she did not want to surrender her gaze, it bothered her to be looked at so brazenly when she felt it was clear she was with Dutch. She pressed closer to him, her heartbeat pounding. She looked to Chakliux; who was this man?

He spoke in a language she could not understand, and she recognized only the name of her husband and her quiet packmate. There were no grateful smiles, no hopeful glances- she was given no inkling of what the stranger intended. 

Chakliux remained stoic, and spoke then to Dutch- and she was grateful for his translation. She did not understand why the men were all so serious about the situation- Sulukinak had been welcomed amongst them, and treated well as far as she could tell. Cen, it seemed, did not approve. 

Chakliux gave her some reason to be cautious of the man. She felt reluctant to simply hand Sulukinak over- and like Dutch, she believed it was the woman’s choice. 

”Sulukinak has been welcome among us,” She hoped he might be satisfied at least to know that his cousin was well.