Bitterroot Valley énska

She knew a titan when she saw one.

Rising Sun, mouth slightly agape, dropped into a bow, tail tucked between her legs. Everything about the man was commanding and fearsome—

His scars, chief of which the jagged mess along one eye. His dark pelt, and stout frame. His demeanor, self-assured and lofty.

I. . .hunt with you? she managed in the few common-tongue words she knew, looking upon him in query.

For his pelt held the trail of the caribou, and she would not survive without it.