Firefly Glen (M) No room for a saint.

Hotah’s eyes narrowed at her tone, the words biting sharper than he expected. Didn’t you? For a moment it caught him off guard—like he’d shown teeth without knowing it. Was that what she saw in Rodyn? Dangerous. A scoundrel.
His gaze shifted briefly to the brown male, weighing the tension that seemed to hang between them, then back to Towhee. Whatever this was, it wasn’t his ground to stand on.
I won’t be far, he said finally, words even but clipped. Give a holler if… He let it trail off with a shrug, scooping the marmot back up between his teeth.
Without another word, Hotah turned, dark frame slipping back toward the treeline where the shadows swallowed him whole.