Qeya River there will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn

the one shifted and regarded her then head-on, cassiopeia remaining still. her next words seemed somewhat less hoarse then her greeting, spiced with humour. she accepted this with a flick of her ears and something that could be called the ghost of a smile if you were to look closely enough. she traced the woman's scars once over with even gaze, finding none as ugly or large as the one across the underside of her throat, inflicted there by two sets of teeth in a ripping fashion that did not spill her lifeblood but left heavy marks there all the same. "I would." and she moved like a viper in an attempt to slip under the woman's guard and find hold in the thick fur of her ruff; a move that would win no fights but test the waters as efficiently as possible.