Qeya River time for dying

The air was charged with tension, thick enough to choke on, as Morwenna’s voice hung in the frigid silence. Gjalla’s eyes flicked between the siblings, her chest tight. She could see the storm brewing in Stærk, the fire burning brighter with each word, and she braced herself for the outburst she knew was coming. And then it broke. 

His words came in a torrent, fury spilling forth in the harsh cadence of their mother tongue. The venom in his voice struck the air like a whip, each accusation laced with anger, betrayal, and something darker—something wounded. Gjalla’s ears pinned back as he barreled forward, shouldering past her with all the force of his rage. She felt her lip curl instinctively, a warning snarl threatening to break free, but she held it back. 

This wasn’t about her. Not truly, but when Stærk’s words turned to Morwenna’s belly—to the life she carried—Gjalla did not hesitate. Not after before.

“Enough!” Her voice rang sharp, cutting through his tirade like a blade, a snarl building in her throat. She stepped between them with purpose, her eyes locking onto Stærk’s with a ferocity that matched his own. She did not bring him here for this.

"You forget yourself. You don’t come here after gods-know-how-long, and hurl accusations like that," she growled, her voice low but trembling with barely restrained anger. "You don’t know what she’s been through, what choices she’s had to make."

Gjalla turned her head just slightly, her gaze softening when it flicked to Morwenna. The woman’s silence, her averted gaze, told her everything she needed to know. Morwenna didn’t need this—not now, not ever. He is lucky she had enough respect for Morwenna not to bare her teeth to his flesh where they stood. Perhaps the Chieftain would take that honor.

"Whatever you’re angry about, whatever you think she’s done," Gjalla continued, her voice steady but sharp, "you will not speak to her like that in her own territory."

She turned back to Stærk, her pale eyes boring into his with an intensity that dared him to defy her. Gjalla stood firm, her shoulders squared and her jaw set. She wouldn’t back down—not for him, not for anyone.