Porcupine Ridge When the chips are down

As he unleashed his secrets, he felt powerful, as if a cluster of matches had all been lit as one. He devoured the opportunity to weave with his words what might become an ornate tapestry, a warm blanket, a cloak of chainmail. Something had boiled within him; now the cauldron bubbled over. 

Viskani t’ink less of you because you be ‘alfblood.’ She believe only in de purity of ‘er bloodline so any respect she shows you? It be fake. He said. Muskrat might not be offended, but at least now she would be made aware that Viskani would never see her as an equal. 

But Tousaint had disdain not only for the racist leader of the vale, but for the slave-keeper of the Ridge. 

She take de fox as a t’reat. She take it to mean you be plannin’ a raid- so she start plannin’ one dat will take place on de night of de new moon, when it be darkest. He advised her. His voice lowered.

She ‘ave two weaknesses. One be dat she ‘as underestimated me, an’ underestimated you. An’ de ot’er be dat fox. He said and sneered as he recalled how Viskani fawned over it. She keep it as a pet, raise it as ‘er child. It be almost as precious to ‘er as ‘er own children…She keep it in ‘er den.

He let the implications hang between them. He gave no advice, and could not guarantee that Muskrat would take any action- but if his words had any flammability to them, he hoped they caught, and started a wildfire.