Big Salmon Lake fallen so far, like a shooting star

Vehiron basked in testing the waters, but given the circumstances, he was in no condition to challenge her. Knowing this, he kept his distance and connected the dots all on his own. The fact that she was so goddamn authoritarian, it was a dead giveaway. He felt so stupid for not realizing it sooner.             “You're one of Siku's.” It was a statement, one of sureness and recognition. He knew of the blood flowing through her veins, and he, in his zeal, was ready to test her. If only because he wanted to see how she'd fair in a fight in relation to that of Siku's combative abilities. But, again: circumstances. It would not be a fair scrap, of that he was sure.             “See this scar?” He moved his cranium to showcase the fully healed wound. It was so bright against his darkness, like a crack in porcelain. “Courtesy of one of Siku's suitors.” That boorish woman – she did not much like advances out of season, but that was not the reason she marred him. “I fought for your mother's conjugation, and I lost.” A darkness befell him; gloomy, defeated. He lost himself for a moment, coming back to the here and now with a less exuberant air.             “Tch. I'm just a man with a taste for big women.” He mused out loud, shaking his head. “...And before you presume, I departed with Siku's blessing, if only because she knows Tartok is all I can be.” A growl rumbled within his chest. The truth, it angered him. How Siku knew him far better than he'd ever known himself.