Lost Creek Hollow We can't spend our lives waiting to live

Out of all the seasons it was winter within which Mesa thrived.

He'd returned to the area from the east, cutting a hard silhouette against the rising sun, and before long the disfigured shapes of branches and ferns merged with the long shadow rolling out before him. When the man discovered wolf scent he paused over it, as if to deliberate.

there was a man nearby that morning. silvertongue kept to the veiling shadows of the hollow, her glassblue eyes watching him. he was strong and hale with ivory pelt, and at once she was intrigued. presently the star unfurled into vision and put her head to one side as she padded toward the stranger. "looking for something, señor?" silvertongue purled with observation in her teasing gaze.

There was the soft sound of footfalls beside him, behind him, he wasn't sure; there, scattered but not hiding the way prey might. He turned his head and saw a gray face, and was pugnacious enough to keep a steady watch, even if it might come across as rude.

Meat. That was what kept everyone going - meat, blood, a racing heart.

"what kind of meat?" silvertongue teased, holding the deep ferality of this wanderer's eyes. her hip curved in suggestion; a smooth brow arched. "meat for the day or for the winter?" she pressed next, sensing she should keep her questions simplistic for now.

Meat, he repeated, as if she could not understand. It wasn't true of course - he merely felt at-odds with her implication. A grown man by now in many ways, Mesa had yet to be chosen by any of the females he had encountered, and was as addled as any boy might be, given the suggestive tone of the woman.

He huffed and bristled, but finally broke his eye away from her own. I track, I roam. Fight, too. A barter in the making.

silvertongue almost rolled her eyes! this brute! it was good that he was so handsome. "a hunter is always welcome." her gaze stroked over his muscular figure. "how do you feel about the stars?" many used them for tracking. others used them for study. riverclan meant them for a far greater purpose. "i am silvertongue. this is riverclan."

Feel? He had no answer beyond a queer look in his eye.

He looked up, prompted by her mention of the celestial bodies; but Mesa had never thought about the sky much, and certainly cared very little about the stars. He cared more for things he could touch; things that could be hurt, things that could do the hurting.

She introduced herself and named this place — Riverclan.

Mesa. He murmured, his tone brooding. After a pause, and sneering slightly at the silliness he felt for bothering to look up at all, he blurted: I will hunt if it means I can stay the winter. Perhaps he would linger beyond, perhaps not.

mesa was brusque and handsome. silvertongue enjoyed that. "stay with us," she said, lifting her chin with a laugh. "you will take over my hunting. i am not so good." a wink to her eye, the star inclined her head and invited him onward. "but you will learn the stars. we all will."