Sunday Star – Watson Davis

Enemy of my Enemy:  Present Your Gift

The High-Mother of the Libta-Thra clan emerged from her tent clenching her fists, her face twisting with anger evident even through the tattoos around her eyes, nose, and mouth.  Her clan, sitting outside of the firepits eating their dinner talking about the day’s events and the following day’s chores, fell silent in respect.

I tapped my foot in the shadows, bowing my head, holding Weelin’s bridle, calming him by stroking his nose and whispering in his ea...