Hushed Willows isumanguruk

The woman was infuriating. She pressed in closer and goaded him with her presence, simultaneously charming him with how right her words sounded. It made him feel impressive. A righteous knight earning the attention of a beautiful maiden. As Valmua pressed her side against him Kigipigak tensed; he did not trust her closeness nor approve of her teeth being so near to his face, reminded of the day she'd pushed him to the dirt and mounted him. He had felt so victorious — then so demeaned.

Kigipigak turned his scarred face towards her. The crease of puckered skin beneath one eye gave him a look of someone older. He flashed his front teeth and clicked them shut as a warning; quick, curt. His side-eye told another story: deferrential and frustrated. Others, like the boy from the sea. 

Kigipigak sneered. I should not have been seeking wives for your brothers, but husbands for you—then again, you do well enough to lure plenty yourself. The monotone nature of his voice did not lend itself to jest, but it was an insult all the same. A part of Kigipigak would always be possessive of the fireheart even if he would never admit it to himself.