Overture Downs winds of east

morwenna had watched with a quiet awe, though her ears had flattened the moment the bull's antlers grazed sun eater's shoulder. her sharp eyes tracked the crimson trail down his muscled frame, her breath hitching in concern. she did not move yet, trusting the rhythm he had honed—a hunter's instinct she could not interfere with. but she kept her gaze fixed on the wound, her heart thudding with an unease she could not quell.

when the caribou finally fell, its life ebbing away beneath sun eater's might, morwenna exhaled softly. she stepped closer, her paws silent against the grass as she took in the scene—the downed bull, the crimson-streaked hunter, and the raw, primal energy of the moment.

they give their strength back to the earth, she murmured, her voice carrying the weight of reflection. it is a harsh mercy, but a necessary one.

her gaze drifted to sun eater's shoulder then, and her ears flicked back once more. your shoulder, she said, her tone a mixture of concern and reproach, it bleeds too freely. her paws took her closer, hesitant but firm, as she sought to inspect the wound. let me?