“I hear Lakewalker men are landless, and do no work ’cept maybe hunting,” said Fletch, determinedly returning to the attack. “If it’s Fawn’s portion you’re after, let me tell you, she gets no land.”

“Do you think I could carry farm fields away in my saddlebags, Fletch?” said Dag mildly.

“You could stuff in a couple o’ chickens, maybe,” Whit put in so helpfully.

Dag’s eyes crinkled. “Be a bit noisy, don’t you think? Copperhead would take such offense. And picture the mess of eggs breaking in my gear.”

Which made Whit snicker unwillingly in turn. Whit, Fawn decided, didn’t care which side he argued for, as long as he could stir the pot and keep it boiling. And he preened when folks laughed at his jokes. Dag had him half-wrapped around his thumb already.

“So what do you want, eh?” asked Reed aggressively, frowning.

Dag leaned back, face growing serious; and somehow, she was not sure how, commanding attention all around the table. It was as if he suddenly grew taller just sitting there. “Fletch brings up some very real concerns,” Dag said, with a nod of approval at Fawn’s eldest brother that puffed him up a bit despite himself. “As I understand it, if Fawn married a local lad, she would be due clothing, some furniture, animals, seed, tools, and a deal of labor to help set up her new house. Except for her personal gear, it’s not Lakewalker custom or expectation that I should have any of that. Nor could I use it. But neither should I like to see her deprived of her rights and due-share. I have an alternate plan for the puzzle.”

Papa and Mama were both listening seriously too, as if they were all three speaking the same language of a sudden. “And what would that be, patroller?” said Papa, brows now pinched more in thought than in antagonism and not nearly as red in the face as he’d been at first.