Broken Antler Fen When I was a child, I heard voices;

Ameline was bleary-eyed from her short trip back to Bearclaw Valley, ensuring its security. The peace of mind made her journey easier; she would have rushed back to Firefly Glen if her home had become occupied in their absence. As it was, her route fell South of the Glen, so when she saw the mountains in the distance, she realized too late that she’d drifted from her course. Tiredness, she told herself. She had enough energy left to forfeit for one last bit of travel before she slept.

She didn’t intend to keep Ancelin and their children waiting any longer than necessary, but the murmured curse of a stranger nearby caught her attention. Had he not looked so ragged, she might have flattered herself to think he’d taken one look at her and had uttered the word as a compliment. 

Rumour had spread of rabies in the Valley; she knew better than to get too close to one who looked weakened but still- she felt obligated to investigate lest he barge into the pack hunt and spread the disease further. Over the boggy scent of the fen, it was impossible to discern the scent of disease.

You thick? She asked. Of course the stranger wouldn’t know of her lisp, so she corrected herself. You good, or are you ill?