Broken Antler Fen no fui suficiente una vez

everything good, the testa asks the worlida and for a second praimfaya is quiet, considering it. though it is spoken in a way that praimfaya understands it to be a small talk piece it is a weighty question all the same. with roangeda? or with her? roangeda was doing ok though the famine was taking it's toll on everyone — though surely, praimfaya thinks, she did not need to explain that to catalina. with herself? hell no. finding ingram's body has devastated her, fresh grief rehashing old grief of blodreina's death that praimfaya had never really dealt with in the first place. inside, she felt war torn, like a battlefield that would always, always bear the scars. but outside ...she is worlida ...she will be wanheda someday.

when you are weak, appear strong...

praimfaya is good at putting on a brave face. so that is what she does. day after day. put on a brave and strong face for her roankru. as good as they can be. praimfaya finally settles in response after sitting her scrawny catch at her paws, salmon pink tongue darting out to clean up any blood or flesh bits that might be sticking to her jowls. are you hungry? it seems like a foolish question to ask — weren't they all hungry? — but praimfaya gestures to the catch at her paws all the same. you can have it, if you'd like.

a good commander looks out for her kru.

praimfaya gives the scrawny opossum corpse a small nudge towards catalina in case the testa decides to take it.

nanowrimo: 276