Duskfire Glacier If I could begin to be

keshka, came the velvet reply, smooth and simple, like a dagger passed under the table. her voice carried something edged in it—humor, perhaps, or something sharper. but her smile was warm, easy, like she'd known the white woman in another life and they'd once hunted side by side.
her brown-tipped tail flicked once, measured. friendly.
predators could be friendly, too.
eyes of a darker sea slid over the woman’s form as she stepped forward, catching the bulk and grace of her stride. not built for birds, no. but keshka didn’t mind that. everyone had their specialty—hers just happened to be... everything else.
you? she prompted, head tipping to the side with a little smirk.
a pause, then her gaze flicked up toward the branches, where a finch chattered its opinion at them both.
you’re in luck. i play teacher just fine.
and she was already thinking of how they'd flush the birds. how she'd teach the white woman to snare a wing before it even thought of flying.