Duck Lake The last of kings

Tvar's expression softened, the tension in his frame ebbing slightly as he regarded her. Her presence was overwhelming, stirring emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in what felt like lifetimes. Seeing her now, after everything, felt surreal, and for a moment, words failed him.

He faltered. Once, he'd been strong. Now, he was weak. A weak man.

“Gjalla,” her name was soft upon his otherwise gravelly voice, for he couldn't utter her name harshly. Her growl fell on unflinching shoulders. Instead, his stare warmed as he took a tentative step toward her, his movements careful, as though afraid she might vanish if he came too close. Most of all, he didn't want to cause her any offense.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he voiced, ears flicking nervously. He avoided her question, danced around it, eyes flickering between hers and the teeth barely visible beneath her quivering lips. Accusation stabbed him as she stared through him. "Not after..."

She ran away.

He paused, swallowing the bile that scorched the back of his throat like acid. He shook his head, a laugh of disbelief bubbling from a thick jaw. “I wish I knew.” finally, he replied. “I shouldn't be here," He trailed off, taking another few steps towards her, his tail swishing calmly between thick hocks. "But if I’d known you’d be here... I would’ve searched sooner."

Tvar’s gaze flickered over her, his eyes tracing the familiar lines of her face. She was still Gjalla—strong, unyielding, beautiful in a way that had always left him breathless. Yet, there was something different about her now, something guarded. He couldn’t blame her for that.

“You look well,” he added softly, his voice almost hesitant, as if unsure whether the words would reach her or push her further away. A frown came to his face.

Then, his dialect shifted. A rumbling of accented speech only for her. Gōntan ao find skoros ao istan jurnegēre syt? Iksos bisa ziry?