Broken Antler Fen walking on glass

though opalia is acknowledged with a small nod of praimfaya's head, the commander-to-be focuses her gaze and attention upon the stranger at their borders; ears cupping forth as he responds to her question. a seasoned scout and guardian. skills that would be useful to roangeda, praimfaya cannot deny. he looks stalwart enough, and she doesn't smell any sign of sickness upon him; also good things in her book.

he returns with a question of his own, and she rises her chin slightly, partially offended at the question. she's not used to having her authority questioned ...even if it comes across as subtle; and maybe that's not what he means but it is how she interprets it all the same.

my people do not ...operate like most do in these wilds. we have a belief that single born pups are born to be our leaders, the commander. my position as worlida is training me for my ascension to the rank of wanheda. the commander. of death. when i come of age and my mentor who serves as my second, my klikalida, how easily she forgets to translate the names of their ranks for those who do not speak trig. decides that i am ready.

they are loyal to me and i, to them. they are mine and i am theirs, she thinks. they are all i have. does that sound like something you can live with? she asks him.