Ravensblood Forest salt waiting

the black fog of his thoughts parts just enough for anger to burn through—seeing his wife being fed by another. even if it’s one of her pals. makes his teeth itch. makes his blood curdle.
he slinks down from the bluff, a shadow on long legs, tail raised like a crooked flag.
oi, he barks, voice slick as oil and just as foul. ’n what be this, then? sisters sharin’ snacks by the sea? ain’t that cozy.
he draws close, leering down with flame-bright eyes.
’ope ye brought enough fer me, too. wouldn’t want no favoritism, eh? he sneers, eyes flicking to the other one with mock sweetness. pleasure t’ see ye again, missus. ye look fit fer burstin’. reckon it’s gonna be a busy spring.