Dawnlark Plains kwana-ci

his ears flick forward, disbelieving, before a crooked grin unfurls across his scarred muzzle, sharp and boyish in its surprise. ayovi? dove? he echoes, voice warm and incredulous all at once, as if saying her name aloud might anchor the sight of her to reality. what! is it really you?
for a moment he just stands there, chest heaving from the chase, blood soaking the white of his chin. it’s absurd—this reunion over torn flesh and snow—but gods, he’s grinning like a fool.
look at you! he breathes, circling the kill to meet her halfway. his shoulder brushes hers, casual and thoughtless, like they’d never spent moons apart, like there hadn’t been distance and war and ruin between the last time and now. still stealing all the good kills, huh? a flash of teeth, playful and bright, though his gaze lingers too long on her face.
there’s something electric about her presence, something old and familiar. aja! he laughs, low and rough, i thought the mountains had eaten you.