Iktome Plains wuskripa

heda shook her head. "no." her family had been pragmatic, at least up until mahler had surrendered them to go live some cottagecore life with his wife. her aunt, somehow. how weird. how odd. she let out her breath and plucked a mouthful of feathers off a still breastbone.
"you killed that one. and i killed these. so why are you thanking someone else?" her voice was not accusatory, perhaps only tinged with the defiance of the young.