Chapter 13The following morning, Otter and I returned from fishing to find my door ajar and the dogs agitated. Blood at the end of the meadow led to where South lay with deep wounds in his flank and head. He valiantly tried to crawl to us, whining in shame that he had not dealt with the intruders. I ran to the porch, shotgun at the ready.
The fronting room on the east side was a shambles. The two bunks lay in splinters. The long table I used as a trading counter leaned drunkenly on three legs. Bursting through the door to my living quarters, I found Morning Mist hewing at my bed while the two girl-women who accompanied her the other day worried over the kitchen table. Seizing the closest women by the hair, I slung them forcefully through the doorway. I spun as Morning Mist rushed me with
