Whitebark Stream red sun rises

his quick wit had her auds perking forward in a lingering glance toward him. the fire inside the blackmarch children still dawned high! she was even tempted to let out a laugh, but settled on a huff of a chuckle instead.
i do not think you are incompetent, she drawled, voice smooth as the stone, whereas his own could cut the ice that protected the streams through the qeya. maybe when you were a whelpling, she countered this time, prodding him with a memory. a memory that he may not remember— from when she was just a teenager, she used to dance around their den with gjalla. he was just a little thing then of tawny stone furs, cut from the same block that blackfell had. it was before the cruel reign of their father, but she tsked at the thought. there was no more bad blood here.
and maybe, just maybe, she could reel out the boy that she once knew.
blackfell has taken interest in my courtesan, her name hung on her lips, gjalla.