Wapun Meadow morningsong

suliya turned her head sharply at the sound, her amber eyes narrowing as they fell upon the figure approaching her. champagne and gristle, he looked like a relic of the frozen north, weathered and enduring. his low croon was soft, testing—like a pebble tossed into still waters.

she raised a brow, her gaze sweeping over him with quiet curiosity, but there was no dismissal in her demeanor. instead, her tail swayed gently back and forth, a deliberate motion, slow and inviting. the unspoken command lingered in the air like frost clinging to morning grass: come to me.

turning her gaze back to the caribou, she remained poised, her frame a picture of patience, though the edges of her lips twitched faintly with a hint of intrigue. she would not break the silence further. let him close the distance, let him explain himself. the huntress had time.