torgar did not allow himself to picture what came next. the six vigilant evenings had taught him the beginning tenets of patience. first he would create this place for himself. the rest would come.
the eiversson had just come back to start dragging the hide again when a voice sounded. senses brought him information: a dawnbreak girl with amethyst eyes stood looking over the elk-pelt. her tones were appreciative, and she spoke in common. it was on the tip of his tongue to pretend again that he knew nothing of the sort, but that had been attached to solulfur. that had been his behest when he followed the Mediator and learned what he could.
it was time to put these things aside. it would never be. it could not.
he was an old one,he heard himself say as if at a distance, voice still weighted by an accent he probably would not lose. she was his age, now that they were close, now that he was eyeing the punctuation of pretty white in her hackles, torgar saw it clearly. he gestured to the fur.
would you like to touch?




