Hollowheart Keep [BWP] [s] a murder most foul

The woman turned her head – not a fizzling pot of emotion, but a bolt of bottled lightning, super-charged and sparking. She had half a mind to rip his face off and satisfy her insult, but… Ultimately, it would get nothing done, except make her more tired, and possibly encourage the coyotes to come back for a second round.

Her tail still flagged tall above her spine and she offered him a toothy grin. “They call me Crow ‘cos ‘m fuckin’ clever, boy,” she replied, wild-eyed and all alight. “Quick wit, sticky paws – caught in the wrong sack a’ flesh an’ bones. An’ not much of a songbird, neither,” she acquiesced. At this point, though, she was hardly in the mood for light banter. Her point had been made, she supposed, both through violence and example. And so had his.

He wasn’t her friend.

She shook her coat out. “See ya when I see ya, punk.”

Exit.