Felltree Marsh A coat of red

sivaak set such pace! sobeille’s legs worked overtime to match the rangy stride of the huntress.

sharadoii were weak, explained the killer as gravel and frost crunched underfoot. sobeille listened, and then fell to silence as she ruminated on red eyes and cornered wolves. the premise was almost eerily close to genocide — something that did not stir any emotion at all in the young girl.

finally, she spoke — having to drop the carcass again to do so. i be knowin’ a weak wolf when i see one. she seized the carcass again and scampered forth a few paces.

once more the limp form dropped to the ground. dey insulted my friend. seizing soft flesh between her teeth, sobeille once more trotted a few steps before continuing. this time, she did not drop the ragged creature but instead spoke through grit teeth. i snuck into camp while dey were sleepin’. tried to kill dem both, but a man save dem.

gleaming pride glittered in her hardened gaze. i took dat bitch’s eye.