Dawnlark Plains the pit and the pendulum

Indra!

the deer spook. they scatter in different directions, and had she not been distracted by the call, Avicus could have taken off after one of the more decrepit members of the herd, taking advantage of the confusion. as it was—

her gaunt gaze lights upon the woman, her face cold as the glacier that had healed her.

Hyor-ah, Avicus says, then freezes, mortified. it's the first word she's said since. . . 

and the graceful glide of consonants, slipping past lips and teeth—oh! she sounds no more intelligent than a suckling pup. perhaps this is why her mother does not speak.

Hyyyor-ah, she repeats, more forcefully, and spit slithers from the corners of her mouth. she spits, snarling, curling her stunted tongue out before snapping it back in, behind her bared teeth;

the woman's presence at any other time would have angered her,

now, in the face of her deformity, she is beyond incensed.