Bitterroot Valley [m] mourning dove

star eater did not flinch.
veksar's words were met with the slow, deliberate arch of a brow, a single flick of her ear betraying mild amusement. girlfriend? she echoed, voice smooth as rolling thunder. you mistake me, boy. i was queen of evenspire—once.
her gaze cut to blackfell, measuring, before she turned her full attention back to his younger brother. and now i am wife to the chieftain of saatsine.
her head tilted slightly, watching, waiting for the weight of her words to settle. not gjalla’s man. there was no offense taken, no venom in her voice, but something firmer—a correction. a statement of fact.
her tail swayed once behind her, contemplative, before she stepped back, allowing the brothers to look upon each other without her shadow between them. she had no interest in old family quarrels, but she was no fool—her presence alone was an unspoken command for blackfell to stay his fangs, at least for now.