Larksong Grotto Warflower

a vocal command as the dane comes from the side of the witch, having ignored her comment with the twitch of an irritable ear. looking then to the babe clutched in ayovi’s arms. feeling some sort of wariness, an unfeeling about what had transpired here.
where is the mother? he asks to the wounded man.
but the woman is flustered, demanding they go, and he will not agitate her further as she attempts to feed the babe. he drops the hides from his shoulders in a heap—caribou, hare, fox—all could be of use.
he turns quickly, looking once to ayovi's husband, who he has not formally met yet—content with a nod once to follow the man to where he might lead.
watching as the soothsayer dances ahead of both, lips falling into a grim, firm line of annoyance.