Qeya River well, I know what you want from me

you hunt with me?

fucking obviously. as if he was letting her out of his sight.

he looks at her with that same beady stare, gaze flickering like pools of blood to follow after her. she brushes purposely up against him and he swallows the urge to bite.

it is enough know to see the droplets of blood marring her cheek.

yes. his scruffy chin lifts upwards, so that he may look further down upon her. it is when he shifts upon paws to follow after that she calls his attention elsewhere. a glimpse behind lets his eyes settle on the watchful presence of the chieftain. blackfell’s face betrays nothing.

he waits.