Nova Peak burn butcher burn

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the man of darkness bartered. skorpa caught some words, and the gist was clear: the stranger, lorcan, wanted to trade. but what? woman arose in language, and he did know this. was he trading a woman? for what?

it occurred to skorpa that the newcomer was regarding him in some sort of respect. the mountain at his back limned this confidence for the bearman, and he straightened. those few halting words he had gathered were not for lorcan to hear, embarrassing as they were; easier to say nothing than be seen a fool.

woman. he became protective at once. "hvis du vil jage eller slå lejr, er du velkommen," the bearwolf grunted, though he punctuated his own words with gestures of paw. they directed lorcan to the vastness of the green-carpeted foothills, and skorpa nodded in a friendly way.

friendly unless the man should invade the upper reaches where ayovi had found peace in their warm den and the snowlit stream above.

woman. a twitch of his own nostrils brought the scent of a second from the coat of this new wolf, and now he understand. "husbondi?" he asked of lorcan, raising an eye. he was husband to a wife? was that what he had meant?

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