Bearclaw Valley you're the voice that i like

oh! rala said, then, her lips taking the form of the letter that went by the same sound. brows raised, as if momentarily shocked by her own foolishness. her expression, then, faded to something that resembled embarrassment ; a careful smile, brows drawn together and a soft shake of her head. yes. i am new, a soft chuckle lacing her words.

the circled this woman, then, as if inspecting. a similar height to herself, yet without the huntress's physique. feather of bluebird stuck to her pelt with what seemed to be sap, she introduced herself as milan, alongside announcing her role as visor. seemingly having gathered any possible information she could extract from appearances alone, the snowwoman moved to sit in front of her packmate - her higher-up ; the visor.

then, she would relinquish her own name: i am nanuralaaq, cub of polar bear, and, without missing a beat, she would surrender the nickname that had once only been intended as a vulnerability for those closest to her. now, having experienced several butcherings, and witnessing the struggle that came to pronouncing the arctic title, she merely said: you may call me rala - shortened form. with a small smile.

curious then. and as unabashed as one could be. may i ask, how did you end up here, milan? a single question, one that the huntress hoped could spark a conversation.

perhaps ... a friendship.