Ravensblood Forest salt waiting

crowell’s face twists when chani speaks, nose wrinkling at her tone. so cold. like he ain’t just done her a favor, giving her a place to rest her belly, food in her gut, protection.
his gaze cuts toward chacal, lingering on the fish she shields like it’s gold. his jaw ticks. the growl in her throat, the glint of fang—oh, she’s still got fire in her.
dunno, he says with a shrug, tone flippant. guess tha’s fer th’ cap’n t’ decide. then he leans in closer, tongue clicking behind his teeth. but if it were up t’ me... i'd say ye be plenty comfortable right here. ain’t no use fussin’. ye ain't got long now.
he eyes chani's belly with a pointed glance, then lets out a low, grating chuckle. ye should be thankin’ me, erzulie. ain't every man sticks ‘round fer his litter.