Whitefish River Darkhan

“Your men require such things?” His mouth curls. It grows upon the woman’s reticence, what he suspects is a truer character than the one of pulsing embers she’d presented before in the pool. He watches her drink, then turns the slick vertebra around in his jaws.

He’d have warned the strange woman from off the road had her answer not elicited his own want.

Adventure. Was this not also Jamukha’s aim, in a way? The man had never desired to settle as his brother had; to affix himself to one place or one kind of people. The very idea dulled him even now.

“Every woman wants children,” he counters, as if this should be her sole pursuit. A means to interrogate her more than anything.