Dawnlark Plains η

Ayovi’s mand. It bursts something inside of her, an immediate fear that she’s overstepped. Women did not speak like this and Ayovi has the grace to feel a stroke in her nerve. Skorpa’s face holds such raw affection and yet it occurs to her a lack of understanding may weigh heavily on him. Swiftly she returns to his side, searching his face. His smoldering eyes regard her only with perfect trust. She smiles, pressing her nose into his jaw before turning gaze back upon the others.
Peace is hard work. Harder than war. It takes far more effort to forgive than to kill. Some stand in blinking silence. Perhaps they know how to make these hard decisions. Other eyes turn heated; feral as a cornered cat’s. Ayovi did not want these wolves upon her mountain heights. She grew protective of the swell in her belly, and meant to set an edict declaring harsh penalties if any tribe prevented the other’s safe travel.
“The mountain, Saatsine, and Darukaal must agree to this stipulation:,” the huntress’ voice rises once more, “a cessation of unprovoked hostilities upon neutral ground. Any violent act will be met with severe reprisal and the rescinding of this allegiance.”
Flush then to Skorpa, longing to adjourn if no other would speak. Let them hunt as one and agree to hammer out finer details of an accord later. She wanted only the eyes of her husband now.