Qeya River my head says i never should've left

The sound reached her first, splitting the crisp winter air with its raw audacity. Gjalla had been standing ankle-deep in the river, watching the lazy eddies curl around her legs, the cold biting through her fur and seeping into her bones. She’d come here for the quiet.

But of course, the quiet never lasted. Not with him

Her ears flicked toward the sound of his howl, unmistakable even with the distance between them. There was no mistaking that tone—the sheer nerve of it. She should’ve ignored him. She wanted to ignore him. To let him stew in his own self-righteousness while she carried on without him.

Instead, Gjalla let out a long sigh, her breath curling like smoke in the cold air, and stepped out of the river. Water dripped from her fur as she turned, tracing the sound to its source. It didn’t take long to spot him, a dark figure against the pale winter landscape, standing on the outskirts of the treeline like he owned the damn place. 

Fucking hypocrite. “And here I thought you didn’t entertain nomads.” she called as she approached, her voice sharp enough to cut through the stillness.

Her gaze locked onto his as she drew nearer, and she couldn’t help the flicker of irritation that crept into her expression. She stopped several paces away, posture rigid, head held high. “Let me guess—you got bored? Lonely?” 

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. There was a pang of something familiar in his stance, in the way his crimson gaze searched for her like he didn’t know what to do without her. But she shoved it down, burying it beneath her frustration.

“Whatever it is, make it quick,” she added coldly. “I’ve got better things to do than entertain your hypocrisy.”