Swiftcurrent Creek turquoise

To keep the fish—foreign concept to the man who held little regard for the morsels. Fish had always been consumed within hours of their capture from him—and his gaze drifted to study the art in which she had wrapped them—the work and mind behind it.

Before he could comment, Muskrat questioned him—drawing his gaze back to her, his brow furrowing in contemplation. “There is little honor in raiding others for their hard earned work,” he chose, his words to the point. To raid an enemy land was one thing—to raid for the sake of doing so?

It was the life of a thief.

“You raid often?”