Blackfeather Woods and she was a war zone of a woman

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the boy scampered along. good. at least he didn't have to argue with him—

he spoke too soon, apparently. smoke kept himself as a leisurely pace, the slowest he's walked in days, and uses this as an opportunity to get the rest his body needed. 

somethin'd kill you.

and without a word to add, it was implied i wasn't going to let it happen. children's blood upon pawed cleaves wasn't ideal, nor was the association. he'd assumed there was a mother out there for him, worried sick, and maybe she was at the valley as well.

it was a better bet than none. 

i'm headed tha'way anyhow.

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