Larksong Grotto sleeping dog beside you

sivaak’s gaze lingers on the snow-cub, the faintest flicker of approval gleaming behind her scarlet eyes. she watches the trust in the pale woman’s posture, the way she bares her throat without hesitation, and though sivaak would never admit it aloud, there is something satisfying in this. trust was not something she sought, but something she commanded, and seeing it given willingly stirs something deep within her chest.

she listens to rala’s words and a sharp huff escapes her nose. you find me, she growls, a command wrapped in the faintest trace of amusement. time will come. sea wills it. when it does, we hunt. we learn. we find strong wolves, muradoii or not.

the faintest tilt of her head follows the snow-cub’s attempt at humor, though her expression doesn’t shift. find your strong man, cub. take what you need. return when you are ready. you roam, you learn. but do not grow soft. sivaak does not wait for the weak.

she takes a step back, her tail flicking sharply behind her as she turns her gaze to the horizon. you remember, snow-cub. blood flows to the strong.

and with that, the bloodchief is gone.