Deepwood Weald tropicalis

he agreed, and then asked about the vomit, which earned a little flick of an ear.

i was with cen. was all she said in response, because a wave of nausea swept through sulukinak again and she had to clear her throat, force the sensation away. she did not elucidate on what they had been doing; it wasn't taboo, but sulukinak felt that the mention of her cousin would only spoil the conversation.

absently she asks, do you want me to go?

her lantern-lit gaze drifts over to dutch, watching his face with an unreadable expression herself. he had not said anything to claim her in return, or make her feel as though her absence would be felt, when the caribou hunter had come before.