Whitefish River into your heart, into your soul

Exousia watched him closely, attentive to every twitch of his contemplative whiskers, every wrinkle upon his marked muzzle. His pause made her wonder if he would reveal anything at all, let alone anything of note.

But he was forthcoming.

Akashingo. Theirs. Basilica. His.

What has reduced the fires of Basilica? she asked, unabashed in her prying.