Even though she was caught up in her game, tossing the dead thing skyward and catching it again, Salvia spotted her tall uncle’s arrival. Almost instantly she dropped the corpse, mouth shutting smartly as she studied the man. Her mother spent much of her time with the green-eyed man, though he also spent (however begrudgingly) much time with her and Pandemic. Therefore, he was no stranger; though she had very little fear of strangers within the packlands, for Anathema was safe as far as she knew. Except for those madman within, a small voice reminded her, thinking of Harlowe.
“No,” she replied curtly. “She might be with daddy,” came the explanation, watching his reaction carefully. Salvia had begun to pick up on social cues during her time spent with others. Tlanti’s lessons in Spanish had come with other lessons as well; the way she behaved around men, for example. There was an art to manipulating them, and the girl sought to find it. Learning to hunt was one thing; learning to twist minds was another.
.saltext b {font-weight:bold; color:#000000; letter-spacing:1px; }
.saltext .ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-face:italic; font-size:11px; text-align:center;}
.saltext p {text-indent:25px; padding:1px 1px; margin:0px;}
.saltext {margin:0px auto; width:450px; background-color:none; background-image:url(); background-position:top right; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:none; padding: 10px 0px 0px 0px; font-family: georgia, sans-serif; font-size:12px; color:#111111; line-height:13px; letter-spacing:.5px; text-align:justify;}
.saltext .separator{width:400px; border-bottom:1px dotted #000000; margin:0 auto 5px auto;}
</style>[/html]