Qeya River gnashing teeth

the storm’s fury swept across the mountain, rain lashing against the jagged ice like a thousand tiny daggers. as the rain gave way to sleet, bouncing viciously off the frozen terrain, blackfell pushed forward, his dark frame cutting through the chaos. crimson eyes locked on gjalla, he stepped closer, his voice raised to carry over the torrent.

no time for you to hate me, he called. it’s getting bad out here.

he moved nearer, the sleet bouncing off his broad shoulders as he angled himself against the wind, shielding her from the worst of it. his gaze held hers, unwavering even as the storm howled around them. let’s find shelter, he urged, his voice firmer now, brooking no argument.

his tail lashed once behind him as he gestured toward the distant shadows of the ridge, where the faint promise of a shallow cave clung to the mountainside. we’ll argue later if that’s what you want.