Qeya River fables

star eater listened, absorbing each word with a quiet intensity. other shore’s story, fragmented as it was, carried the weight of a journey taken alone. the mention of a cold field, of scarce food, did not surprise her. there were many places like that—places that forced wolves to move, to wander, to seek what they could not find in the lands of their birth.
it must be beautiful. her voice was soft, contemplative. she imagined the open field stretching endlessly, the streams winding through the low hills. a land that was harsh, but still full of its own quiet beauty.
as other shore spoke, star eater moved closer, dipping her head to groom the younger wolf’s fur with slow, methodical strokes. it was a small gesture, but a deliberate one. the girl was thin, windworn, a little frayed at the edges from traveling so long on her own. star eater would not let her stay that way.
i came from another home, too, she admitted after a moment, though there was something distant in her tone. but i was never unattended.
it was the truth. she had been watched from the moment she took her first breath, guided by hands both loving and cruel, shaped by duty before she was ever given the chance to decide what she wanted for herself.
but she had made peace with it. and now, she would ensure that other shore did not have to learn her lessons in the same way.