Qeya River weeping willow

he exhales slowly, hearing her words. the truth of them is one he has carried in silence. neither of them belongs here—not in this den, not in service to others. he licks her cheek softly, a tender touch, before pulling his head back to meet her gaze.

you know it too, then.

the red in his eyes darkens with thought. she served saatsine long enough—and blackfell understands her loyalty to morwenna. but what is the price of it? this was not where they belonged. it was not where blackfell's siblings belonged. it was not where he wanted to raise their children.

i said once that i would follow you. that has not changed.

he had tried to adapt. become something he was not, something he would never be. and he knew that the lanzadoii chieftain saw it. he saw right through blackfell, yet blackfell had never given him reason not to. the language, the culture—it was lost on him.

he would not live in falsehoods as @Star Eater did, and neither would gjalla. you know that i will do as you do. he says warmly amongst the fronds of her raven fur. he raises a paw to cup her cheek, the rivulets of her fur. but this life... he trails off.

a pause that curls discomfort through out his all. there is no purpose to it. it is empty, cold. i see how it has changed you, how it has whittled you down. and now it is not just you i must protect. mind drifts to thoughts of veksar, kaedra. he was man now, but that changed nothing—not in the long run. my siblings. his lips press into a thin line upon sighing. and the girl.