Qeya River But often it happens, you know

her ears flicked with interest, the corners of her mouth curving upward in mild amusement as she tore a strip of meat from the young ram.
ridgeback suits you better, she mused between bites, her gaze drifting over his form—the strong slope of his back, the sturdy frame built for the mountains. but… do you like it? the name you were given?
there was no judgment in her tone, only curiosity. names were powerful among the saatsine. they were given with purpose, meant to shape and reflect the soul. yet she knew well that not every name was welcomed.
her eyes lingered on him, waiting, wondering if he had ever felt as though his name truly belonged to him—or if it had merely been another thing thrust upon him, like so much else in this harsh world.