Qeya River judge and jury

blackfell chuckles at his harsh words, and yet they do not sink deep; if, at all. you are right. he says, casting a quiet glance at the man. perhaps i misspoke. i do not seek to have without first earning. a dip of his head.

stalking along at the backside of sun eater's flank, ears twitching quietly against the winter chill. if anything, that is comforting: the cold. remnants of home in the frosted air. now, he says: i have hunted with suliya. met the fierce antlers of a bull. he tilts his head, to show the man the curved arc that cuts his eye in half. tended to by the paws of his wife.

your caribou are mighty.