Swiftcurrent Creek turquoise

her eyes traced the scars upon his face as he spoke, the life lived. far more years than her own, though without the confidence that muskrat would have expected from a man of his status.

handsome. broken. hurt. he warned her and she laughed mirthlessly up at him, a single barbed exhale. "maybe it that way for you. not for me." each piece of strength she consumed from defeating another quenched her spirit. he did not understand it for he had not seen it. warriors lived a life entirely separate from that of their clan, and it was on her tongue to suggest he do the same for the next years of his life. "i have no one to watch die."

who was akavir to speak as if he knew her? he did not, and her heart was kindled to turn him aside. there were not enough words yet in her command to explain the nuance of the raid, what it meant, what it stood for among her people.

now she closed to the night man, and only waited for him to step aside.