Sunset Valley Harvesting

she questions him. he looks upon her sharply, a bristle about the fur that crowns his neck. what? he asks, brows knitting. who would not want to know? he rebutts.
she speaks yet again, and ulfric exhales, a slow breath through his nose. choosing to ignore the beginning strands of annoyance.
"then i would ask—help with what?" he had a right to know, did he not?
she rises against him, small but bold, pressing paws to his chest. he does not move, does not flinch, only watches, blue eyes sharp, flashing once over her face. he does not shy away, nor from her or the odd, milky eye that peers curiously into his soul.
"if the gods ask, i do not refuse." a truth, simple and certain, expelled with a blow of breath.
she laughs, drops back to the earth, strides ahead as if his answer was expected. he follows with a flick of his tail.