Qeya River tight rope

suliya’s sharp gaze tracked the line of blood across blackfell’s face, her expression unmoving save for the faintest furrow of her brow. the bull’s death had been a victory, but the price was clear.

no, she said firmly, stepping closer to inspect the wound, though she kept her touch light. it won’t be fine if it festers. go. she jerked her muzzle in the direction of the camp, her tone leaving no room for argument. find the chieftain’s wife. she will tend to you.

she turned her attention back to the bull, her pale form a stark contrast against its dark hide. i’ll start cutting the hide and taking the meat. you’ll be of no use here if you keel over. there was no malice in her words, only a sharp practicality born of experience.

she glanced at him again, her gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. and tell her to hurry. the blood will draw more than just scavengers if we’re not careful. with that, she turned back to the carcass, already planning how best to handle the massive beast.