Dawnlark Plains kwana-ci

Who is he?
Teeth do not meet her’s in a snarl over the carcass. He grins— ever fleeting, but clear and wide above the messy aftermath of their hunt. It is uncanny! So much so that the smile burns into her mind as Ayovi regains breath opposite him. She cannot be driven to feed, only to trace each of his strides with fervent indigo eyes while a dance of strong numic replays in her ears.
His voice, she needs to hear it again. Boldly she skirts the kill, gliding for him, maw lifting to take in the whole of the scarred face. Something flits across her features— a nervousness, a compulsive intrigue. She gasps just a little, her heart thudding wildly.
“Coväh?”