Felltree Marsh A coat of red

Sivaak moved forward without waiting, her frame cutting through the cold air like a prow through water. Her ears swiveled once but did not turn back, her focus locked ahead.

The frost crunched beneath her paws, her gait slow, carving a path further inland.

"Prey not talk like that," she growled bluntly in response. The faintest smirk tugged at her lips, though, fleeting, sharp.

Her gaze drifted to the horizon, searching for nothing in particular yet always hunting. "Depend," she said after a moment. "No Muradoii at coast. So, we search. Lanzadoii come to coast soon. Toward us. They go long march." She mumbles, speaking through the icy fog.

"Sivaak hate Sharadoii. If we find Sharadoii, we kill. Take spoils. That is way."

The crimson in her eyes gleamed as she pressed onward, her breath curling like smoke in the bitter air. Her tail flicked, a silent signal to keep pace.

Sivaak didn’t slow, nor did she care if her company struggled. The weak didn’t matter—only those who endured.

Her shoulders rolled with every stride, the thick muscle there thrumming with power. “When find them, or find us, you prove,” she added, her tone almost dismissive, though the gleam in her eye spoke of expectation. “Caribou hunter keep no dead weight.”