The depths of the Kimaris woman were full of shadows that Salvia was frightened of. She had gained a healthy respect for such places, having seen what could be kept within them. Even her brother, whom outweighed her and spoke little, frightened her sometimes. Yet what she felt about her brother often filled her with an excitement and a heat she did not understand. No one else made her feel like that, not even Sirius, though she thought of the poison eyed man often and a similar heat came to her.
Yet youth kept her innocent (though she knew violence, as was apparent by the fresh scar) and she knew what it was to hate. Tlanti’s dismissal of her father was shrugged off, and the girl curled her toes around the leather weaving that lined the fence to keep the sheep in. Only the horses remained today, for the sheep were able to graze elsewhere during the sunlit hours. Her eyes narrowed at the thought of the new children, and her muzzle crinkled unpleasantly. “They aren’t right,” she said flatly. “One of them is sick. We weren’t sick.” Sulking. It was not uncommon for her to do so, but rarely in public, especially around higher-ranked members.
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