Bitterroot Valley blood ties

he snorts. a calloused sound, not aimed at his brother, but their sister.

she knows.

and as he walks he is tense, guard hairs standing upright as if frozen by the elements. the tail that had been too often relaxed at his hocks as of late flying like a black banner. eyes of beady malice pinned ahead.

and there, atop a rock, perched like a queen upon her throne, is kaedra. face, smug, per usual. eyes overlooking the two as if they were pests. his ear swats; she probably sees them that way.

his teeth grit. for once, blackfell is at a loss for words. let him put faith in the mouthy veksar to confront their witch sister. they were the littermates, afterall. blackfell is half tempted to draw himself to his haunches and resign to watching the show.