Qeya River tight rope

suliya didn’t linger on blackfell’s retreat, her focus entirely on the task before her. the bull was massive, its thick hide a testament to its resilience. but she worked methodically, her paws deft as they guided her sharp teeth and claws to cut through the tough outer layer.

the hide peeled away in heavy, satisfying folds, revealing the rich meat beneath. the cold air preserved it well, making her work easier, though her breath still puffed in steady plumes as she exerted herself. she paused only briefly to glance toward the qeya river, where the herd had scattered, their shadows fading into the mist.

returning to the task, she began separating the meat into manageable portions, stacking them carefully on a flat stone to keep them off the snow. the warmth of her breath lingered in the chilled air as she worked, her focus unwavering. this would feed saatsine for days, perhaps weeks.

when the preparations were done, she stood back, surveying her work with quiet satisfaction. the hide would be dried and stretched later, the meat divided among the pack. with a final glance toward the path blackfell had taken, suliya let out a small sigh before turning to gather her haul. the hunt was done, but the work of survival never ceased.