Qeya River teach

suliya watched him, the way his eyes slid over her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. she always noticed.

but she said nothing. men were men. lanzadoii men were hunters; their gaze always wandered, seeking what was next. it was their way. and she had long accepted it.

his compliment drew a flicker of amusement to her face, but it was brief, passing like a shadow. her attention returned to the caribou’s body, the warmth still slowly seeping into the snow beneath it. a life taken. a necessity.

i have always followed lanzadoii, she answered, voice even. my mother was muradoii. my father lanzadoii. he forbade me the glacier—wanted me to be her daughter alone. but i chose him. his ways. our ways.

she bent down, teeth sinking into the hide, pulling back the skin with practiced ease to better reveal the meat beneath. her muscles flexed beneath her pale coat as she worked, though her voice remained steady, distant.

sun eater is my cousin. i came because it was time. i will hunt for him. and for saatsine.

finally, she looked at him, meeting his eyes with her own, sharp and cool as the snow.

family is the herd. we move with them. we bleed with them. you are part of that now.

her tone softened, if only slightly.