Emberflame Ridge Attawkǒnts

“Mit hjem er Skorpa,” she tells him, still flush to his kiss, pawtips resting gently against the hollowed cheek. But she too had come to love the mountain, it’s cloudy tower and white cascades. And now as he speaks she yearns for their place; the little cave on the rise painted in danish.
He goes on and his wife listens, eyes flittering beneath the gentle ministrations. “Impulsiv er farlig,” she agrees, canting her chin back in a sigh to allow access to her throat.
“Høvdingekonen Star Eater sendt undskyldning til dig. Jeg ønsker at blive. Hjælp hvis sårede, hvis stemme kan ikke stoppe krig. Hjælp hundehvalp.” It is not easy to remain impartial— and she hasn’t, though it is not her place to voice so aloud. There was no love lost between she and Darukaal but Saatsine’s havoc was nothing she longed to commit to. She sighs into her husband’s kiss.
“Så vil jeg hjem. Med dig. At lave en fæstning. And if I have to play nice to get it— I will. For you,” a touch, “and them.”