Morningside Cuesta [m] trottinggale

she tore at the heart with a ferocity that mirrored the very life it once held. blood coated her lips, dripping from her chin, staining the snow beneath her feet. she did not flinch, did not pause, only devoured with the purpose of a wolf bound to her pack, her husband, and their gods.
when she finally looked up, her amber eyes burned bright, locking onto his lone, glinting gaze. her tongue swept across her bloodied mouth as she spoke, her voice low and rich with conviction.
that is what wives do, she said simply, her words thick with the weight of tradition and devotion.
k'edghildza stepped closer to him, her breath misting in the cold air. we honor, she murmured, her muzzle brushing his as the warmth of the heart’s blood lingered between them. and we are bound.