Nova Peak τ

“Ja. Når du vil være det.” His smile is endearing. Her pawtips move to trace its bend. There has never been much lightness between them. Their months together had been a series of intensive moments. She coveted this, and allows Skorpa’s love to overwhelm the agonies of what came before— the strife in the North, his teeth tearing her open. The dull pain still in her flanks.
Her paw, so small against the breadth of her husband’s chest, flexes. “Ikke hvis jeg har noget at sige,” Ayovi laughs, brows quirking but her voice is only half-joking. It is hard enough keeping the den clean with one noisome norseman. “Desuden er der ingen uvaskede mennesker her.” The huntress nuzzles into his jaw, breathing in the cleanliness. She’d never admit to liking his foul, virile scent. For a moment she is content in their quiet.
“Skorpa. Når jeg er helbredt, vil du så lære mig at være nordkvinde?”