Qeya River a pack of dogs

blackfell saw the triumph of it. saw the way she clung, did not let go. a proper kill, a proper end. he watched the last twitches of the caribou’s legs, the slow, creeping stillness of death overtaking the beast as ishmira refused to release her grip. she would not relent until it was truly over.

he exhaled sharply through his nose, crimson gaze unreadable as his run slowed, watching as sun eater oversaw the rite of first blood. a smile comes to face—begrudging, all the same.

and then—sun eater’s nod. a gesture of approval. blackfell met it with his own, and then quickly turned his attention to ishmira. coming to step beside her, where she bent above her kill. you did well.