Qeya River [m] horn lance

her breath hitched at his touch, his warmth enveloping her like the furs they would one day share with their children. the heat of his body was a balm to her tension, her nerves. her tail shifted, curling around his hind limb, fingers grazing lightly over his chest as she whispered—soft, eager.
will you touch me?
it was not a demand, nor a plea, but a bridge—a gentle offering of herself. she was his, but she wished to feel it now. to ground them both in the comfort of their union.
but she would not let softness overtake her entirely.
she had seen the wariness in his eye, the lingering shadows of his thoughts. she knew that men like sun eater—men who bore the weight of power—never truly rested. and she would not be idle. she was his wife, yes, but she was more. she had been raised to be more.
what would you have me do, chieftain?her voice lowered, steady. i can be your eyes, your ears. if there are threats, i will see them before they come. if you need a spy, a whisper in the dark... i want to be useful to you.
her gaze searched his, the barest shimmer of longing there. not for praise, nor glory—but to stand beside him, to strengthen his claim, their claim.
tell me how to serve you.