Luneshale Pass you keep sayin' that i'm nothing like my father

her nose wrinkled in response, and she shook her head, turning away. no, she replied, her jaw instinctively clenching at the thought of that hag. no, i was just curious why you weren't with her. that was all.

fiamma turned instead to the seedling. the only new life she could put her name to. . .at least this year.

please grow, she whispered, eyes almost closed in her desperation.

then she turned to the youngster, face impassive. what do you want? she asked curtly.

she was not happy with her rival's virility thrown in her face, innocent as the boy was in all of this. bushtit represented everything she could not produce; she couldn't help but treat him with a certain measure of disdain.