And the Werewolves Cry

[Agani de'Luah]

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She didn't know Tayui, he could tell that more from her body language than her words. Words delivered unhappily were hard to decipher through lips, but he appreciated the effort she was making to communicate with him.



She continued on though, the ringing in his ears altering faintly in pitch, and her relaxed expression allowed him to read her more easily. So he did, like she was a furry, four-legged book. A very interesting one at that. He smiled at her.



"Thank you, Lexey," he said. "I'll f-f-find her, I'm sure." As he said this, he dug through his deerskin bag, pulling bits and bobs out and scattering them over the forest floor before he withdrew a smallish, flat chunk of slate. With a bit more digging, a crushed piece of pink chalk was found.



"If you can sh-sh-shift, I can read well," he offered, rubbing his arm across the slate to clear away dust and debris.



Or you can listen to me.

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