Qeya River star

her eyes drop immediately to the offering. not just any part of the beast, but the heart. her preferred choice.
she narrows her gaze, unreadable, though suspicion lingers at the corners of her features. did he know? had he observed her, taken note of such things?
blackfell, she greets finally, her voice a steady hum, measured. she watches him with that same sharp intensity, as if peeling back layers of muscle and bone to see what he is made of beneath.
the heart rolls at her feet, slick and dark, the scent rich and strong in the cold air. for a moment, she does not move, merely studies him with something wary, something thoughtful.
then, wordlessly, she lowers herself, tearing into the flesh with efficient bites. if there is meaning in the gift, she does not question it aloud. but the acceptance is an answer in itself.