Dawnlark Plains η

star eater’s ears pricked at the hush of voices, tension coiling like fog between the gathered clans. these were heavy words spoken, thicker than the snow that cloaked the earth beneath them. agreements. peace. trust. the weight of it pressed to her belly, to the unborn who would soon inherit whatever path was laid here.
she tilted her chin toward the pale woman—ayovi. the swell of her body did not go unnoticed, nor the way she sought her husband’s gaze as if anchoring herself to his silent strength. star eater understood it well. she knew that bond. the need to be heard, to be respected, while still leaning into the force of another.
he agrees, star eater said, her voice smooth and assured, rising for all to hear. saatsine will not settle in the glacier, nor will we make camp on your mountain. but we will walk freely, as we always have. as we must.
her eyes flicked to ayovi, and with the barest of smiles, she added, the pelts we carry are worthy trade. caribou spirits have been generous this season.
and then, softer—directed only toward the white woman across the gathering, so that only those nearest might hear, we understand the protection of young. i do not ask your mountain to risk its future. only that we hunt in peace, and let the cubs born beneath this sky know the strength of unity, not the hunger of war.
with that, her gaze shifted back to sun eater, catching the way his eye roved from her belly back to the others, and she gave a nod—small, but certain.
let it be known, star eater finished, stepping just enough to stand beside her husband, close enough their pelts brushed, the saatsine agree. the lanzadoii stand behind this peace.
and for now, at least, it felt true.