Dawnlark Plains η

they moved. called by unseen forces, words and songs sung upon the cold wind. sun eater had went at once, wife and war chief at his sides, and blackfell had seen no choice but to accompany. there was loyalty, not of his own accord, bitter and deep driven, for the chieftain; that he shadow his flank, divorce any who opposed him from their lives. there was instinctive urge to protect morwenna—and gjalla shared the same loyalties to her sister.

gjalla is at the helm of their waltz. her footfalls crunching furiously over ice and snow, swathing the lands in her festering emotions. blackfell is the knight clad in black armor at her side, teeth and claw steady sword, and crimson eyes lancing viciously over the scene that unfurls.

he comes to a stop. several feet behind the saatsine chieftain and the war chief, and several feet behind morwenna. he catches her eye when she looks back—it is quick, fleeting, and does not last. blackfell feels hackles twitch in response, but his eyes are wrenched elsewhere by the two figures who begin their descent from the glacier's might. faust, beloved cousin, shadowed by an unknown man—powerful in his own right.

blackfell feels pride in this display, and his chin slowly juts upwards in response, tail a twitch nervous at his hocks. he should stand with his kin, not away—and yet here he was. he presses closer to gjalla, exchanging a loitering, cold look with his promised.