Kildeer Rest propaganda you should fall for

ravah nearly snaps when he calls her princess, a flash of old instinct rising sharp in her chest, but the sound dies unmade in her throat. he does not mean to be inflammatory, and it is only his his way speaking.

but it does not keep the nervous bile from rising up the back of the silver woman's throat, the apprehension; the hesitation to trust, and the grim thoughts that begin to take root deep within her mind.

she huffs, tail giving the smallest, irritated flick, though her paws follow when he turns east. her stride slots beside his larger lumbering, moving with the slender gait of a huntress. pushing through the beginnings of ankle deep snow, raising her chin to look ahead of them.

ravah’s ears rise when he begins to perfectly pain the picture of the boy she remembers. the tension rocking along her spine melts into a trembling, hopeful line. yes, her reply comes fast and breathless with mounting anticipation. a melting pot of many emotions. yes. that him. covah. ravah breathes.

sega.

the woman trots a half-step ahead of callahan as if she might pull the valley toward her with sheer will. snow kicks up around her ankles in soft bursts. he alive, it is a soft, feather-light murmur, directed more to herself than any other. band chief. there comes a more excited huff.

it is good to know her friend has done good for himself. and that he has not forgotten the truth of their people.