The little one looked up at her with brilliantly red eyes, and Evike peered upon them enviously. She had always thought red eyes were pretty. Her own gaze was the color of river mud, of shit and old, dust-covered leather. There was nothing pretty about her eyes, and in this one's gaze she saw fire and fury, young as he was. The child took an uncertain step toward her, and the world seemed to slow. A cinnamon and brown blur behind Jenci caught the woman's attention. It was only through sheer force of willpower she kept her head from snapping up in alert.
Jenci, she hissed, now more concerned with her brother than with the youth. When I tell you, move left. Her brother began to raise a protest and Evike would have bellowed, had she not believed yelling would give away her knowledge of the approaching stranger. Don't fucking ask any questions, she again hissed, her voice carrying the faintest rumble of a growl. Jenci whimpered, his ears flattening. Evike snapped, Now! and the man did as he was bid, jerking in an ungainly and almost comical manner to the left.
The cinnamon blur, now evident as a coyote, sailed past her brother, and Evike leaped over the little one, swinging her club as quickly as her arms allowed toward the coyote. The swing was not aimed so well and more or less intended to take advantage of the woman's disadvantage in having missed her strike on Jenci. Her brother, dumbfounded, stood to the side, staring openly at his sister and the newcomer, though he was not so addle-brained as to completely miss the newcomer's intent. He stepped forward with his thicker and slower club of brutally knotted, burled wood, swinging it low in attempt to catch the woman on the knees or thighs.
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