Qeya River do i wanna know?

his path carries him along the river, eyes sharp for any sign of gjalla; he had yet to see her—and he thought they needed to speak. about a surplus of things, and few of it, he feared, would be pleasant. his search led him to the den of morwenna, where he thought he might find her, if nowhere else. but he did not find her, only morwenna, sprawled in the snow, heavy with child.

he had been avoiding her. not that it had been difficult—she had kept to her den, and he had kept to his duties. but now, here she was, in the open, with nowhere for him to turn but forward. so he steps toward her, ignoring the way his shoulder throbs beneath fur matted thick by blood.

mor- his voice is stifled, then. eyes cutting coldly over her, then to her audience; narrowing softly, while he clears his throat. chin coming to press into his neck fur as he mutters: star eater. correcting himself, bitterly.

gjalla—have you seen her?