Storm Watch Butte A little party never killed nobody.

her brows lifted at the foul language, though she set her face in a pleasant smile of greeting, nodding toward towhee and bushtit before shifting to catch what soto had to say.

sangre, she heard for sure. dónde sounded a bit like her own word for 'where,' and the rest she could pick up through context clues.

and as for the other party—

tierra, fiamma repeated, mouth firming in concentration. dark brown fur, around my age? battle scars? if so, we knew her as 'sangre'. . .and we have not seen her for a moon or so, now.

i'm sorry, she added. she glanced toward soto. sangre è 'tierra,' sua figlia, she explained, nodding once more at the woman. lei non l'ha vista.