the mountains are calling

Sakana had filled her in on the mountain pack, a bundle of toothy, terrible children and a culture, perhaps the closest to their own in all the lands. It was a logical place to start. She came bearing gifts of course, alcohol for the adults, toys made of hide, bone and feathers for the children, (if only to spare their poor mother's tail), some herbs from the coast for their stores, the usual.

She settled herself at the borders and sent out a summoning howl for the leader. If his children were anything like her own, perhaps it would be worthwhile to organise some playdates, if only to spare their neighbours in the short term.

“Speech.”