Meriwa maintained steady eye contact with Sage as she ripped the rag out of her mouth, throwing the dirty, wet cloth on the hardwood floor between them. It wasn’t throwing down the gauntlet exactly, but neither was it a surrender in the form of a once-white flag.
Musty looking, and perhaps a little moldy, just looking at it made Meriwa feel a little queasy. That had been in her mouth, which was dry and sore and gross tasting. She rubbed her tongue on the roof of her mouth, but it did nothing to dislodge the mildew flavor.
She spoke slowly, carefully, but with a strength she hoped would make them think twice about trying to grab her again. “I am not dying today and certainly not at your hand.”
The other shifters mumbled, refusing to look at her. She couldn’t say whether it was fear or
