Luneshale Pass hielo

she kicks the hare away. rude, but soto can’t help the grin that follows as her stomach betrays her. 

he shrugs. he is no nanny, and he’s under no false pretense that he’s here as her savior. his gaze holds her a long time, measuring each scar, each tuft of disheveled fur, the smoothing of flesh where juarèz had laid atop her, the missing leg. her body a map to all the injustices sustained since her birth. 

he takes the hare and pulls skin from flesh, chewing. nada. between mouthful of gristle, he points to her missing leg. ¿quièn te quitó eso? who took that leg from you?