Hushed Willows isumanguruk

For once, his cool and collected style had a crack. Within the light of it, the fire woman saw weakness. She saw his pain and his misfortune. Another woman of their pack might have felt pity and a will to heal him, but Valmúa merely looked on apathetically. Internally, she rolled her eyes. Her Kigimuscleman had turned into something disgustingly weak and foolish.
The white northerner explained his condition. She did not frown. She did not smile. Intentionally, she took two large steps toward him to close the distance, for she held the power over him now. I am sure you did well, my pet, she said, knowing very well that he was hardly a creature that gave two shits about her any longer. She did it to incite a reaction. She longed for it in him. One might say in some disturbing way, she missed him.
The fire woman flicked her tail, partly dominant, mostly provocative. Did you take a piece of them? She asked, knowing the likely answer.