Duskfire Glacier i'm cauterizing the veins you lacerate

Sega’s ears tipped back when the dark woman came into view. Her storm-bound frame drew his eye as much as it had Svana’s, though he kept his posture low, respectful.
He bowed his head first to Blackfell, then to the mate at his side. Blackfell. Wife, he said slowly, gravel rough in his throat. We… well met. A pause, then his muzzle dipped toward the piebald pressed close at his shoulder. Svana...mine.
The words were simple, but the weight of them was heavy, meant to bridge the divide of tongue and land.
Ice... he echoed, a faint nod following. We live with wind. Plains.
He did not miss the way Svana’s voice slipped like a whisper of awe beside him, foreign to their ears but clear in its tone. Sega’s icy eyes softened a fraction, enough to let her know her place was seen and included.
He wondered, then, if they could understand her. If he would end up being the odd one out for the woman he claimed to be his.