Nova Peak back to the old house

her hum stilled mid-breath.
the branch snapped—sharp, wrong, too fast. she rose quickly, water trailing from the ends of the flowers she had been soaking, the fox pelt clinging pale against the curve of the rock.
silatuyok turned, ears back, body low—not out of fear, but deference. she did not recognize the steps, but the energy that stormed through the air like thunder? that she knew. a predator’s gait. a storm behind teeth.
you scare, she said softly, voice shaped with the roundness of her native tongue, broken common cupped in breath.
the scent hit her next. man. smoke, sweat, anger. her pale gaze lifted, slow and cautious, finding him—a shadow made of gold and violence.