Serpent Lake my own summer

Remort watched, eyes squinted in scrutiny. Her movements seemed restless as she placed herself on the other side of the stream, like the trickle of water was an impenetrable barrier. The stench of wet fur made his snout wrinkle.

Even after shaking the water from her pelt, the stranger remained mute as she looked at him again.

What—can't talk?

He had caught her staring at him first. What'd she want?