Black Morass mauritius

kóvictus huffs low, satisfied. her breath is warm against his cheek as she murmurs her reply. his golden eyes stay sharp, softening only for her. tonight, there is no war. no conquest. only her.

come, he growls quietly. he nudges her once more, then steps forward. his paws press deep into the mud as he moves, steady but alert. the sounds of the morass surround them—frogs, distant splashes, wind rustling the branches. it doesn’t distract him. he listens, but his focus is on her.

ione keeps close, her steps even, graceful. kóvictus watches her out of the corner of his eye, his tail flicking once behind him. she walks tall, carrying herself with quiet authority. she is the only woman he respects fully. the only one who tempers him.

our children—they will know no weakness.