Dawnlark Plains Nɨ paa nɨ’a

“Feed, feed!” It is offered as a benediction on a voice grown hoarse with feeling. “My name is Ayovi. I have made a home here, in the mountains. You may harbor with us as long as you wish,” she looks on, eager for the woman to take her fill. On this contentious ground Ayovi would be her shield, and the huntress makes this known, allowing her tail to fly high and uncontested.
A liver nose tests the air, and though she finds no familial scents she cannot turn face from the threadbare woman.
“You know the language of my people in Big Sky; how?”