Qeya River longing sun

the caribou fur draped over her shoulders, cut by his own teeth, smelled of him—of the life they had built together, the home they had secured. she let it comfort her, let the solid weight of sun eater against her cheek steady her mind.
settling her cheek against his flank, her breath left her in a slow exhale, misting against his dark fur. she caught only a sliver of veksar between the space of her husband's flank and the world beyond him, his shadow long in the gathering light.
she did not speak yet, not when sun eater held command, not when his voice pressed firm but controlled. he reined himself in for her, and she knew it. her gaze flickered up, catching the sharp lines of his face, the rigid posture that masked unease.
her ear twitched in anticipation, flicking against the thick fur of his side, before she returned to stillness, waiting.