King Elk Forest ≼ völuspá

she stiffened when the second scent cut in — iron, blood, claim. heat flared under her skin, a reflex she did not fight. one paw lifted briefly to her throat again, not for them this time, but as a marker of herself. silent. scarred. listening.

the call of the kingelk rolled through her bones and she bowed her head with it, deep and instinctive. when the claim followed, her ears pinned and she shifted sideways instead of back, placing herself half between the two males and the tree line. snow scuffed beneath her paws. ground acknowledged. not surrendered.

she glanced to whitejaw once, brief and sharp, then returned her gaze to the northman. a low bark broke from her chest — not defiant, not afraid. a question shaped in breath and posture alone. shoulders squared. tail low but steady. waiting to see whose will would hold when the forest answered back.