Sleepy Fox Hollow it's a call before the chasms collide

The shadow watched while the brutish male offered his appreciation before he tore into the flesh of the bird. Feathers seemed to fall here and there without care, and several clung to the edges of his lips before drifting slowly toward the ground. He tore into the meat for several minutes before he finally lifted his head and drew his tongue along his chops, fixing her with the light of his gaze. Ginsberg found him interesting. The vivid sea green of her gaze found the nasty scar on the underside of his throat. There was a story there, she imagined, but she was not likely to ask about it until they had found some ground between them.

An introduction was offered by the silver-draped figure. He called himself Rannoch and claimed the mountain near where they stood. The wildling furrowed her brows and turned her attention toward the jutting figure that was called Sunspire. It was then that she noted the scent on his coat was similar to another that she had found. “I met Coelho a few days ago,” she offered with a curt nod. Then, the savage woman drew her skull upward and stiffened her ears atop her crown. “I'm Ginsberg.”