Nova Peak [nd] Nįwa

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silatuyok’s ears flattened slightly, a bashful flick of emotion crossing her face like cloudshadow. she did not meet his eyes—not right away. his voice was warm, teasing, playful in a way that pulled at the edges of her, but she was not made for spotlights. not used to being seen like this.
my… people… she mumbled, words shaped slowly in broken common, laced and soft as powder snow, they… dance.
she did not finish the thought. her tongue pressed shyly into the inside of her cheek as if searching for braver words, then, with a tiny shake of her head—no, no more speaking.
instead, she stepped past him, quiet as snowfall. paws brushing the earth. her shoulders relaxed, the rhythm of the drums humming through her bones, and slowly, her body began to move. soft steps at first. subtle as breath. but growing.
a turn. a lift of her paw. a sway of her hips that wasn’t bold, but sure. old. carried from the ancestors who’d taught dance not as performance, but as prayer.
she did not look back at him.
but the invitation, like her, was gentle and open.