Qeya River brother's blood

gjalla was not one to be summoned, not one to come at the beckoning of another, yet the voice that called for her was more than a mere command. no, they were tethered—an invisible string, a thread that tugged at something deeper.

scent of oils and caribou hides greeted her before she reached the den, a stark contrast to the bite of the wind outside. it was an old comfort, one she had known well.

her shadow stretched long as she stepped inside, cold air clinging to her fur like a second skin. her gaze settled upon her star sister pensively, measuring the weight in her shoulders, the sigh that had carved its way from her throat.

“you called,” she said, voice even, though not unkind. there was no softness to it, but there was understanding—an unspoken willingness to listen. she did not sit, did not ease into the space. it did not feel quite right.