Redhawk Caldera tatterclaw

he did not say the words she wanted him to say, and hated herself for wanting him to say.
teya felt him move behind her. she heard the pair of syllables drop from his mouth and then listened to him trudge away. her heart thudded frantically behind the bars of her ribcage. when she dared to lift her head and look away from the water, only his proud red hackles were disappearing into the fading light.
teya realized that she did not want him to go, as much as she wished he was gone. she told herself again, fiercely, that he hadn't cared before, that he didn't want this. maybe she was doing him a favour. maybe he would take it that way.
her stomach revolted violently at the scent of her own catch, which had taken hours and far more energy than she had meant to expend. only instinct kept teya from throwing it over the bank into the water surrounding the island.
the raven straightened.
reyes was gone.
her chin trembled; her eyes stung; but she was resistant to more days of swollen eyes and chapped throat. teya turned toward their den, and answered the urges billowing inside her chest: she began to dig, expanding the hallway and sleeping room little by little, hour by hour, until the owl-calls made her pause, soil-streaked and sweaty.
this was not something she could escape. and so she must make it work.
teya found she missed reyes fiercely, already, and sharply went back to her nesting.