“Weasels piss on you,” said the only speaker without the darkness in her Threads. “I know more about these mountains than you, Caden. After all, who’s the domna here?” “You do realize what my last name means. Fitz Grieg?” A pause. Then: “You bastard!” Safi cried, and a sound like punching filled the forest. “You are literally a bastard! Why the rut didn’t you tell me?” “It’s implied in the name! I’m sorry if you were too dense and self-absorbed to notice.”
