Qeya River Lost wayward son

rodyn wastes no time launching into the purpose of the visit; though he cushions true motive with wanting to stop and say hello. still, the words trade garner the bulk of kivaluk's attention and focus.

a stag pelt; an exchange that they could keep the meat if they allowed him to take the pelt. for a moment, kivaluk wants to pause, to call for his mother thinking that it would be undermining of her authority to make the decision himself. a soft twitch of his ear hints at the internal debate.

it sounds fair. kivaluk murmurs aloud. i do not wish to overstep and say that we accept. you would have to speak to my mother for that. because though he might be a princeling he held no true sway here.

a dilemma then.

a distraction from the dilemma was offered in grim news of a cub being stolen by an eagle from the coast. i have not seen any lost cubs, kivaluk admits; voice solemn. he assumes, for an eagle to be able to steal it, that it must be small. young. younger than him and akkuma at any rate. i will keep an eye out when i'm scouting beyond our borders. this was the best kivaluk could offer though: a promise to keep a weathered eye on the horizon just in case.