she did not move at first. not when the lanzadoii brute slithered through the brush like something uninvited. not when he spoke her mother’s tongue— her tongue— with the air of a man who had earned it. her breath stilled as his voice, too soft to be humble, rolled over her in familiar cadence.
sharadoii. in the mouth of a man. a man who knew.
the indignation burned behind her eyes before her lips ever moved. this was improper. no lanzadoii man, not even a chief, had place at a wetu without invitation. and certainly not one who brought no gift. no feather. no offering of good wind. only questions. only demand!
you speak as if your tongue belongs here, cloud lash said, her voice low but tight, pulled like sinew from bone. do you not remember the old rites, chieftain? or do lanzadoii chiefs forget manners when they take wives who are not their own?
she did not let her gaze waver, even as the grey wolf at her side shifted with tension.
your stay was not warranted. no invitation serves you, she continued. you will leave soon. your kind always does. ours remains like stone. the wind in the cliffs.
and then— softer,
you will feast. there is nothing to stop you, a breath, as she knew it was true. elk charm's body guard and luke lingered, sure, but it was not enough for his band.