Bitterroot Valley dalnum

<3!

Words were exchanged; ones that he did not understand. But he...reigns an air of familiarity with the tongue. Was it Skorpa who had spoken the same tongue? The man who whisked his cousin up and off her feet? His lip dared to curl, if only brief, but he restrained himself. 
She did not look at him— but he looked at her. Swirling pools of emerald that stared back to his willowing amber. Hers were stronger. Much more. 
The hare was dropped at his feet. She questioned him. But he did not know what the small piebald asked. 
He pointed at himself. No longer Cövah. Sega. 
friend.