Duskfire Glacier [m] diet mountain dew

he stared down at the array of meat, then back at her, gaze unreadable.
when a woman hunts for a man, she accepts their bond. the words were heavy, weighted with something that went beyond mere explanation. mateship.
his tongue swiped over his teeth, watching her reaction, waiting. did she know what she had done? had she meant it? or was this another one of her careless, thoughtless acts of kindness—the kind that made him want to shake some sense into her, make her understand the way things worked?
but lousine, with her wide, curious eyes, was already tilting her head at him, that small smirk playing at the corner of her lips.
gods help him.
his jaw tensed. his breath came slow, as if trying to steady himself against some unseen force. he could tell her no. tell her it was a mistake, tell her it meant nothing. he could push the platter back toward her and pretend this moment never happened.
or he could accept.
he held her gaze, then, after a long pause, finally answered. it is good.