Swiftcurrent Creek A sons grief

Etienne glared at the bird. Bared his teeth again. snapping at her in creole.


Vole ale oubyen m ap manje w, bèt fou.

Etienne froze, ears slicked back at the tone of voice. His fur rose and his eyes tightened. The tone was changed fairly quickly, but the sound stayed in his minds eye.

I will nor be able to catc' 'er. An' 'er was nor 'appy 'ere. 'Opefully 'er can find 'appiness.