Sun Mote Copse I was sleeping in the garden

Merel froze when she heard the call, teeth still closed around a piece of the skin of the elk she had taken. The hide, left to dry in the sun, would be wrapped around the few possessions she had and gathered up in a bundle to carry with her. It was still a foreign thing to Merel--the idea that she could call something her own, even if it was only to trade for something else. Even now, she wondered if she would be forced to abandon the pelt at some point--and wondered, too, if it was even worth taking anything.

The Storyleader's voice put an end to such thoughts, yet Merel grappled with indecision for a few moments before following her voice. She barely knew anything of the Summerwalker way. Her voice could not count for much. Still, she supposed it was her duty to answer any summons. At least she might learn something by observing. She approached the Storyleader with a small smile.

Here I am, Merel greeted her.