Qeya River ghosts

Gjalla’s ears twitched, though she bit back her immediate response. Her eyes stayed forward, amber gaze fixed on the forest ahead as if she could will away whatever lingered in her mind. His comment drew a faint scoff from her, though the sound was more weary than derisive.

“Generous and observant, how quaint,” she muttered, matching her pace to his. Her tail swayed behind her in a restrained flick—she didn’t push him away, but she didn’t soften, either. 

“Dreams,” she finally admitted, voice clipped, as if the word itself was a concession. She kept her focus on the path, refusing to meet his gaze despite his attempts to catch hers.