Qeya River brother's blood

gjalla did not shrink from the woman's touch, nor did she speak as she pressed her snout into the space of her throat. she simply let it happen, let the warmth of her linger against her skin, let the scent of her fold into her own.

gjalla’s jaw tightened, something deep in her chest twisting at the softness beneath the command. she would stay. she had already promised as much, but hearing it—feeling it—made it something real, something tangible. 

when her sister pulled away, gjalla watched, catching the way grief still lingered at the edges of her. gjalla did not name it—she had never been one for words of comfort, never been one to offer empty reassurances. instead, she watched as star eater turned her attention to the scattered bundles of herbs, to the work that needed to be done. 

"would you like to help me?"

oh. she is giving me something to do, she thought. a distraction, perhaps, from the storm beneath her skin. her gaze flicked to the herbs, then back to star eater. her sister was staring back, and gjalla found she could not refuse. 

“okay,” she said, nodded.