Whitefish River Darkhan

she follows -- at a distance, of course!

a lesson still bitter in her mouth.

he throws the headless thing upon the ground and rips bone from ligament in a way that sends a ripple through atoztli.

she claims the limb, looking down upon it and then back to him with the ripple now a gleam in her blackened eyes.

you're not dissuaded by much. should she tell him?

a whisper of an old urging told her no.

instead of saying what was on the tip of her tongue, she smiled to herself and looked at the severed haunch. the ribbons of ligament and collagen. the layer where external skin met internal flesh. the red spiderweb of nerves and bloodwork.

thanks for dinner. whatever did you do with the head?