Qeya River a pack of dogs

uuts'taa is right— words that come as grim surprise to uuts'taa in question. red eyes sifting to the man, holding cold upon him for several long beats; bearing, heavily, into the back of his head while he addresses ishmira.

he promises her a name. he welcomes her beneath his yoke. bids she hunt, and black bird grazes eyes upon her now. roving her, finding the lean sinew beneath her pale coat. it could be trained—she could be trained.

and no one held claim to her but blackfell—he would cloister her beneath his wing. teach her his ways, learn her of his culture, just as he would the children he'd bring from gjalla. it is a decision set in stone. blackfell is not hungry and so he does not eat, instead, offers a parting nod to the both of them—but red eyes linger long on ishmira. silent bid that she come when she finishes.

he departs with the shadowing wings of a raven flying high.

exit !!