Snowforest Taiga nibwaakaawin ikwe

She does not need told twice. The invitation accepted, Kuva uses the leftover poultice to slather the wounds she'd inflicted onto the mountain woman. A handsome countenance up close—grizzled, scarred, but no less appealing. A tried and true makwa'tek in the eyes of her people.

Hands work with not gentleness, but efficiency. the salve now spread across open wounds to hopefully ward off infection or decay of flesh. Her twin would work further wonders, should Kuva still be blessed with her presence. But for now, this would suffice. Eyes flicker to meet the mountain woman's, still lit with a fire that makes something unsaid stir within Kuva. An attraction, though one she not yet quiet face. The woman had beat her in a spar—but how useful would she be in a hunt?

A test for later, should the larger woman stick around. Palms hold—as instructed—against the wound to cease the bleeding. Kuva's lips drawn tight, but not unfriendly. "My people would call you makwa'tek. fierce hunter and warrior. I want you by my side...to test, to hunt." Less an invitation this time, but an order.