Qeya River your ivy grows

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upon the wind, a scent finally drifts towards him. and that crimson stare narrows, sweeping the length of the widening expansion. the river narrows in the far distance where it is less tumultuous, seeking not to claim life but to feed into the far channels.

his gaze lifts from the churned tracks at his feet and soon finds her shape near the river’s edge, thin and solitary. a willowy young woman, cutting the daunting image of sun eater. and at the mere sight, blackfell must choke down the threaten of a snarl.

he loathes. he burns with his loathing. but this girl is innocent. innocent. innocent. he reminds himself with shallow breaths as he turns to amble his way in her direction. along the winding river, a slow, thundering of paws. cutting iron gaze fixated on her.

the raven's wings cut the cold air as it settles near her with a dry click of talons. settling against the frozen bark of a fallen tree. its equally as crimson eyes consuming upon her form while blackfell remains several lengths back.

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