Deepwood Weald Life is ours, we live it our way.

She remained silent for a long moment to consider his answer, not so sure that she believed him. Her feelings for Chakliux had been muddied since the day he'd found her in the cave. Ciri knew that with the breeding season upon them, he'd be wanting to remain close to the women he'd claimed as mates. And since he'd portrayed seal-hunter women as almost entirely reliant on their men, he was sure to be running himself ragged to ensure they were cared for.

She convinced herself that he was telling the truth, however, for although the Moontide wolf had dashed her hopes by revealing his true self, he had been nothing but honest with her. So Ciri chose to believe him with a thin smile to curve her maw, and offered a lazy sweep of her raven tail.

This exchange did not have to be an awkward one.

He seemed to detect the scent of her chosen prey, and passed comment on the worth of its pelt. Her lips parted in a grin then, and she loped forward to resume the hunt. It is not his pelt I seek, she quipped with a beat of laughter, her tail flagging; this was her prize, and she was determined to claim it.