Dahlia sat in the kitchen eating cornmeal mush with a spoonful of molasses mixed in. Tennea stood with arms folded, regarding her sternly.
“I said stupid things last night,” Dahlia groaned. Tennea nodded. “I’m so silly when I drink. And nasty when I’m hungover. I’m very sorry.”
“Quam is merciful,” Tennea said stiffly, “to those who repent. I’ll try to be merciful too. Let’s not speak of last night.”
“Hunter’s your brother,” Dahlia said.
“I guess you weren’t too drunk to figure that out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Family shouldn’t have to hunt each other.”
“Tell him that,” Tennea growled. “No, I’m sorry. It’s a miserable business. I wish you didn’t have to be part of it. But listen, I dearly hope he’s just playing the skittish animal, taking his time before he approaches you again.
