do you understand my words, claw-runner?asked the hunter as slowly the bristling along his neck began to grudgingly settle. and that odd tail-lash; this cat knew the way of his kind.
still he did not approach; still he dropped no iota of his guard. slate eye searched in near-hunger now for any sign that they were not alone, that this was a trap of massive dark cats. this possibility was almost more acceptable than this — oddity of a conversation.
in too many ways was the sun man traditional. this instance, also, his turn to stand before what he did not know.
