Qeya River i like it when the bite marks cut through the skin.

Clutched within her jaws is the tail of the man which they had killed. It stinks, too. Stinks of him mostly. She would need to cleanse it in the ice waters of the river and sit it out in the sun to dry like she might the skin of a weasel. 

As they arrive, she pauses at the side of Gjalla though as her brother comes, she steps forth, their eyes casting upon one another in silent greeting as she keeps her pace, moving past him and continues on.

 Her mision accomplished, a prize to remember and a good night's rest needed back along the caribou lands she called home.