Dawnlark Plains η

cameo unless shes addressed.

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gjalla stands at the heart of it all, where ice and steel meet beneath an indifferent sky. the air is crisp, the tension between groups is palpable. she does not flinch. she does not waver.

she walks beside blackfell, his dark presence shadowing hers, a knight carved from the dark itself. she holds her head high, posture poised, but her emotions swell beneath the surface, a slow-burning fire against the tundra’s eternal cold. 

morwenna’s gaze flickers back. gjalla meets it with a quiet, unreadable look—acknowledgment, perhaps, before the pregnant woman turns back. as the moment passes, and her attention turns to the figures descending from the glacier’s height. 

two other men, one with the pelt of raven and gold, the other a myriad of browns—both unfamiliar, but not unimpressive. there is power in his bearing, something cut from the same merciless stone as the land they stand upon. blackfell stiffens beside her, a subtle shift, his tail twitching at his hocks. 

she presses against him, brief but grounding, a silent exchange. steady.

her gaze sweeps over the gathering—saatsine, sun eater and his warriors. the bear-cloaked man and his wife, bearing the promise of life in her frame, just as morwenna. the bastard and his bearish friend.

gjalla says nothing, but there is something knowing in her stare. undefined.