Hushed Willows cause he can't compete with a man like me

sivaak’s crimson gaze flicks to the smaller caribou that sobeille had pointed out, her scarred muzzle tilting slightly in approval. good, she murmurs. small one is weaker. easier to take. stays on the edge, away from the others. smart choice.

without waiting for further input, sivaak shifts her weight. her eyes narrow as she studies the milling herd, noting the patterns in their movements, the gaps in their formation.

you stay here, she growls softly, glancing at sobeille. watch and wait. sivaak will move first. when herd scatters, you go for the small one. keep low. keep quiet. follow where it runs. do not lose it.

her tail flicks once behind her before she begins to move. she does not spare a glance back at sobeille—her expectations are clear, and she does not coddle. the young wolf would prove herself or fail; sivaak’s role is only to guide, not to handhold.