Redtail Rise beowulf

red dusk feels her before he sees her.

white and clean against the burn, she comes with the land in her step. his tail gives a single, easy sweep, unguarded. the ptarmigan feathers at his nape stir as the air shifts.

he does not crowd the young male. he holds where he stands and turns his attention to her, pale gold eyes steady, reading the quiet strength in how she carries herself.

when she steps forward, he lowers his head first. white feather.

he angles his body open and offers his scent plain. rise earth. old fire. fresh kill.

at her question, he dips his head again, deeper. a low sound leaves his chest, warm.

yes.