Emberflame Ridge Attawkǒnts

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skorpa drank of her words, more shapes to be drawn upon their red-ochre wall. in passion, ayovi gave more of her than he had known, or had bound together until this moment. he had always seen her pride; of course the people who had begat her would be such.

her hunters. her clan? or those who had followed her name?

his eyes did not miss the way mother's-touch wrapped to the slope of the belly he had only just loved.

"en fæstning har brug for handel, selv med fjender, der frustrerer. selv med dem, der er tåbelige."

he sat up. "lad taigaen tigge bjerget igen." the umber eyes shone. "lad tåberne blive knækket."

"jeg er med dig, ayovi af winsook. vi vil bygge høje mure for os og for vores børn," skorpa declared in a husky voice battled by passion. "og det er winsook, der bliver magten i nord. ikke darukaal. ikke saatsine."

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