Qeya River do i wanna know?

his breath curls in the cold, slow and measured. her hands work, deft and practiced, and he does not move. he watches instead, red eyes shadowed, unreadable.

she knows. blunt. absolute. nothing more needs to be said.

she steps closer, and he does not step back. her breath ghosts against his fur, thick with the scent of earth and ice, and something else—something new.

she works quickly, without tenderness—with skill. this, at least, remains unchanged. his lips twitch with amusement, though it is faint and fleeting. the silence which comes between the two of them is numb, filled with a tension he does not understand.

and her words fall on receptive ears, that twitch in quiet reply, head bending downwards in the relent of a dark crown. his rebuttal comes quick upon hissing tongue, behind a cage of teeth, neither of which are meant to bring her harm but to behave defensively and with humor. and you are not?

then comes a scoff, quiet as it is rough. the both of them know better. and then that familiar silence is back, mind-numbing, and ever so slightly causing his guard hairs to twitch in instinct. this was so different from how things had once been between them. years had sowed something ridden deep between them; and it was full of regret, and suppressed feelings. he cannot bite back the grating, annoyed chortle.

is this what you wanted? his eyes flicker down, to the swell of her belly—betraying him.