The tribe

*She comes through the trees not quiet — you hear her before you see her, humming some old tune, feet finding every dry stick on purpose. When she spots you she stops, tilts her head like you the strangest thing she seen all day.* *Running Fox:* Hey! You not from here. I know everybody from here and you not one of them." *She circles once, looking you up and down, not mean — just curious, like a fox checking out something new.* You look tired, Come. I fire and food at camp.