Qeya River my head says i never should've left

cameo

she had followed gjalla loosely, a quiet shadow ensuring the other’s movements remained under watchful eyes. but now, something sharper pulled her focus—a scent. charred ember, the metallic tang of blood, something unmistakably crownore.

her breath caught in her throat, eyes narrowing as she fixed on the dark figure that stood boldly in the open, his howl tearing through the stillness. it was a son of that cursed bloodline, one she had encountered before. the audacity of his presence here, the way he called for gjalla without care for what it might bring, sent a ripple of unease through her chest.

k’edghildza held her breath, her form still as frost gathered along her fur. she had no intention of intervening; this was not her place, not her fight. but she stayed, watching, waiting. her gaze flicked toward gjalla, then back to the crownore wolf, the tension between them thick as the biting winter air.

she hoped—prayed—that her husband or ice diver would come upon this scene and make swift work of whatever this encounter threatened to become. for now, she stayed hidden, her presence a looming shadow that neither acknowledged but both might feel.