Duskbreaker. An interesting name for an intriguing man.

Devika was all too aware of the silence pressing in around them, a silence that had become her lifelong companion. She wanted so badly to speak to him, to engage in this conversation properly. Frustration simmered in her chest.

She studied him, weighing her options. Did the land he came from know the written word? Would he understand if she spelled out her name? Some had called her mad for scratching her scribbles into the dirt; perhaps he would be one of them. But it was worth a try.

With quiet determination, Devika rose and stepped closer to the large male. She positioned herself at his side, facing the same direction he did, then lowered her head to the snow-dusted pine needles. Carefully, she began to drag her paw across the ground, shaping each letter with deliberate precision until her name stood clear against the earth: DEVIKA.

When she finished, she circled back to sit across from him once more. She gestured first to the name in the snow, then to herself, holding his gaze as she waited, hoping he would understand, that the silence would not swallow her attempts.

Another idea flickered. Slowly, Devika raised a paw to her throat, pressing gently before shaking her head. Her ice-blue eyes searched his face, hoping the gesture would make it clear: she was mute, not some cold, disrespectful creature refusing to speak.