Qeya River tu el aire que respiro yo

she deserved none of this passion, and by the end of it, silvertongue was trembling, slipping her paws upward gently to caress the tears from that much-beloved face. and how unfair it was! to find that her mouth could make no noise, her throat form no words; that she had wanted this over and over from crowfeather and had instead learned to live without it. and now to have it offered in such fierce sweetness — it was almost as if she underwent for a moment a small death of self. she did not comprehend what it was to be loved so very much, and so let the very noiseless vibrancy of her entire body straining forward in response speak for itself. "i loved you before the desert," was all she could at last say, her voice made tiny and resplendent in its own love as she brought them, the riverclan women, the qeya wives, together in a kiss tasting of salt and a deep, abiding sweetness.