Bitterroot Valley objects of ceremony

"hah. little insane keep wolf alive," Sega said to much nodding and a string of mm-hm, mm-hm from Miska. They sat in easy silence for a time after that. Time's great loom wove a new thread into their shared tapestry; pale blue and lovely.

When Sega spoke again, a smattering of brave stars had winked into existence in the slow-spreading black above their heads. "Hm," Miska breathed. Season of the wife. "I stay," he agreed. "Bracia no good for wife and childrens. It is like show throat to enemy and say 'please, only kiss'." Miska raised his chin, revealing a pronounced gap in his thick fur - the relic of lips from long ago.

He shot Sega a side-long glance, chin still on the air. "What of brother Sega? What stinking old life you are sacrifice to great sky?"