He sidled up to her, pressing his side against her as best he could with their uneven heights. She greeted him bluntly despite his affections, the black sheep sighing at her tone. Can't I accompany my mandia on her way?
He looked her up and down, eyes trailing over her gaunt frame. Besides: you're too frail to be going out on your own.
He nudged her side, his nose grazing over a rib.
She stumbled at his push, proving his point. He said nothing, only turning to her with a knowing smirk. He did not pursue her further, as he would if she were stronger. He may be an ass, but she was still his sister. He laughed at her resilience, her determination to not show weakness, but it was foolish of her to do so. He would gladly hunt for her, and was close enough to offer her that mercy at least.
At least, until religion came into the conversation. His cocksure grin turned into a frown, then a condescending sneer. The Gods.
He rolled his eyes. The Gods had little to do with your success. I doubt that they would care, if they even exist,
He smiles at her, glad them to see mirth rather than dejected and withdrawn. She was a lively person, and she should remain lively. You're welcome, mandia jorrāelagon
He complied with her silent wishes, standing still near her. He looked down at her, eyebrows raised silently, waiting for Koume's words. When they came, he simply smiled, shrugging before stepping out of her way.
He is reluctant to let her go. She still bears the marks, physical and mental, of her journey as a child. Her growth has seemingly been stunted from it, and she was permanently skinny, her ribs showing through her fur. He should stay with her, and hunt for her, but... She insisted. He wasn't going to exhaust her by fighting with her. Take care, sis,
He says, before turning back home.