Blackfeather Woods So what do you want from me

Italics are in Inuttut because I’m too lazy to even open the dictionary

I am well.

Although the words registered in his mind with relative ease, they did not keep away his prying eyes. He gazed at her directly before turning his attention towards the rest of her body, trailing over every inch of her before landing on her forelimbs; though they were covered in blood no longer, the missing fur served as an ugly reminder of the battle she’d been dragged into. His jaw clenched as he stared, regretting having not done more to help her, and then deciding he was foolish to assume that a woman of the north needed his help—were his intentions to be laughed at and mocked by the souls of females that were to someday linger alongside his?

When she spoke again, he was snapped out of it redirected his staring upwards. A small, uneasy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I’m well,” he returned, expression relaxing. Tilting his muzzle, he invited her to walk with him; should she agree, he’d start moving northwards. “Do you like it here?” he had to ask, curious if she was as troubled as he often was. It was not easy being so far from the north, from the only place one had ever known—especially not when the language that now surrounded them was not their own.