Whitebark Stream red sun rises

gjalla is here. she confirms, smoothing a forepaw absently over the earth. courtesan may be a heavy term, but she followed me here. to saatsine. the words are spoken with quiet certainty, a thread of something fond lingering beneath them. she's quite uptight, though with blackfell...
when veksar stumbles over his reaction to her pregnancy, she watches him with something unreadable in her expression before offering a small, knowing smile.
there will be a woman for you, she muses, tilting her head slightly as she studies him. blackmarch boys always did find one, don't they? there is humor there, a quiet jest at his expense, but it is not unkind. if anything, it is the closest thing to reassurance she can offer.