Priya was pumping her bow and whooping some sort of huntress's paean. Several meters back and to my left was a smaller, very dead peccary with an arrow's shaft barely visible behind one ear.
"How old were you when your people first taught you to ride?" she rode up and clapped me on the shoulder.
"When we were briefed on you, they made it sound as if the Magyar had been 'civilized'." If there was any doubt, 'civilized' was a bad thing in the sss dictionary.
"It was all Peppermint," I evaded. "I was just along for the ride." Peppermint shook her head - flies.
"I will endeavor to take her hunting more often," Priya laughed. "Let's butcher our kills. We will both be hailed in the camp tonight. White Stallion indeed." She was trotting off to get her 'guest of honor' for tonight's festivitie
