She laid out her idea as quickly as she could. With every word she said, Trace looked less and less put-out. By the time Bitterroot was done, Trace was looking thoughtful and unconsciously tapping at the ground. She glanced at Catskill and her ears twitched. “It would… certainly make sense for her,” she said, “but what of the other mare? Or the bear that attempted to kill Artemis?”