Felltree Marsh A coat of red

Sivaak’s ears swiveled at the question, though she didn’t stop. Her pace remained steady, the crunch of her paws against frost the only sound for a moment before she finally answered.

“Sharadoii weak,” she growled, glancing briefly over her shoulder, her crimson eyes glinting with disdain. “They hide in valley. Pray to charms. Soft pelts. Soft wolves. No fight unless cornered.”

Her gaze snapped back to the horizon, and she pushed forward, her shoulders rolling with each purposeful stride. “Lanzadoii stronger. March with caribou. Never stop. Always moving. But they soft, too. Run when they should fight. Only Muradoii fight with teeth.”

She huffed, her breath curling into the icy fog. “When you see them, you know. Sharadoii die quick. Lanzadoii scatter like wind. Muradoii? You see red in their eyes like Sivaak.”