Swiftcurrent Creek rasputin

he spoke, and her eyes opened to yellow slits. he had the face of a shadowcat, his own stare hard. he had seen fighting, muskrat could spot it in the way he held his shoulders, the poised muscles of his forearms.

they were not like her. his words were bulky, tactless. "kunanchu wañuchiwanki, tuta runa?" muskrat asked in a quiet, measured voice as she took in the planes of his face, memorizing her enemy.

she had picked up a few of their ugly words, but why did he need to know that?