He offered a slight smile at the craft woman's words, through no comment. He hoped that it was true, and she would make something splendid, but in truth it was Deathbelle’s judgment he was trusting, not his own. This was the woman she had chosen to make the pelt she longingly sought, and he would trust that she knew what she was doing.
“Understood” he said as she requested feathers from them. This meeting had been stressful and tense, but it seemed they would actually reached the end of it without further incident. He almost laughed in despair when Ditch threw the rabbit pelt at Zee, hitting her square in the face.
He said nothing when Zee glared at him, and demanded that he do the work, that he owned her this much. He wasn’t going to argue with her, his heart was already heavy at having to tell her off time and time again. She acted like a free woman, but she was a slave, a slave and he wished she understood that. She might not make this hard on him time after time, if she understood that.
“Farewell, until then, Dutch” he said politely, before picking up the sack, saying nothing to Zee as he turned from the meeting, recieving a good flick across his face instead of his side as he did so. He ‘harrumphed’ but said nothing as he began to walk.
Bloodletter
