Qeya River to die for

star eater did not move from the bank.
the cold of the river licked at her paws, seeping in, chilling her to the bone, but she stayed. she watched. the dark, roiling water swallowed them whole—ridgeback first, then blackfell, then her husband.
her heart thundered in her chest. she had seen death before. too much of it. but this—this was something else. this was the blood of her husband, her son. her stomach twisted.
that way, she told ridgeback, voice steadier than she felt, her muzzle pointing downriver, where the current hungrily pulled ghelan further from reach. she could see him, barely—a fleeting glimpse of brown against the black of the river.
and then sun eater’s scream split the air.
her breath hitched. she had never heard that sound from him, never imagined she would. there was a desperation there, raw and untamed, a father raging against the river that dared take his son.
her claws pressed into the frozen ground. she did not call after him. she knew it would be useless. instead, she prayed—not to gods, not to spirits, but to the river itself.
do not take him. do not take them.