Porcupine Ridge ❝—berries tart & lilac sweet.❞ (wdg.)

melkor listens attentively as she sets out explaining all they will salvage from their kill. it makes sense to use everything they possibly can — to not let any of it go to waste. with it being the winter months and with whelping season upon them in just shy two months they will need to make use of it all. ❝the hooves?❞ he inquires in a quiet rumble, eyes darting to the hooves before falling back upon andraste once more. ❝i don't recommend using them as chew toys but ...maybe our healers can use them to crush up herbs or something.❞ he says the last bit of the sentence with hesitance ...because he wasn't really sure.

his gaze trails back to their quarry, assuming that unless they summons the pack here he'd be dragging it at least back down to the floor of the vale because saving everything they could was a job for more than just the two of them. so wrapped up in those thoughts, melkor doesn't even notice her stumble of the beginning 'w' — isn't even aware she begun to speak at all. at least; not until the question comes out and hangs in the air between them.

only then does glacial gaze slide back to her, brow rising as the words sink in. wed me. ❝...kinda thought we already were,❞ melkor admits; though he supposes there's nothing wrong with making it 'official', with having solid ground to stand on together and a clear description of what they were ( even if everyone already knew they were together ). ❝if you don't mind us both being covered in blood then, yes, i'll marry you.❞