Silver Moraine three hammers

He tried to remember the woman’s name. Had she given it? Had she mentioned the word Saatsine? Cambria couldn’t remember, though how many river clans were in the area? Perhaps this was the uncle who’d taken the pack by force. The yearling chewed at his lip, staring at the missing eye and recalling some particular words from the exchange weeks back.

“I live by the river, there; my uncle is there too, and I don't know how to help him.”

“What happened to him?”

“Fighting.”

The man’s voice cut into his thoughts presently. Cambria didn’t know how he felt about fraternizing with a usurper. He sensed Mulherin wanted to keep the peace between the two packs and the Dragonling didn’t want to disturb that careful neutrality. But there was another thing.

I’m only comfortable hunting with my own pack, which which was the truth, mostly because I’m a liability, which was a fib. I was raised alone by a single mother and never had the opportunity to hunt cooperatively until recently. Another truth. Maybe some other time, when I won’t just embarrass myself. Thanks, though.