Blacktail Deer Plateau ◊;

geirmundr turned to face her, slow and full of weight, like the shifting of a great stone that had been still for too long.
her voice was thin but sharp—muradoii. a word spat like venom, a trap laced in sound. he didn’t know it. but he knew what it carried. suspicion. fury. fear?
his brow furrowed. he stepped no closer, only lifted a thick paw and jabbed it once toward his own chest.
nei.
the word rumbled low and hard, old tongue sharpened by certainty.
his voice lowered, rumbling through his chest like the growl of distant thunder.
kríghar.
a pause. then, slower, awkward, he shaped the broken word in the tongue she'd understand, maybe. 
figh...ter.
his hand did not reach for her. only the air, open and empty.
he didn’t want her blood.
he only wanted her to eat.