Rising Sun Valley säsìlpey

uktark’s jaw tightened at the name, a rough huff pushing from his chest before the sound could soften into anything else. he did not look down at the boy at first. his eyes stayed on the treeline, on the ridges that held and broke the wind.
toruk, he repeated once, low. then his head turned, just enough for one dark eye to pin tsu’tseya in place.
i am sangilak, he said. not loud. not proud. fact. where i come from.
the boy’s wanting sat plain in the air between them. wanting to be strong. wanting not to fear. uktark studied him for a long beat, measuring bone and breath and the way grief bent him without snapping him yet.
fear stays, he rumbled. you walk anyway.
his shoulder shifted, making space at his side—not invitation, not promise. opportunity.
that is how.