he looks at her for a fleeting moment, and she finds in his single red eye a deep and penetrating sadness. some hopeless, forlorn part of her wants to go to him then— to take ghelan into her arms and soothe whatever ails him so.

she notices, too, the gentleness with which he conducts himself. he does not tower over her, domineering, as sun eater once did. there is an easygoing, well-intentioned slope to his muscular shoulders, and she decides then that ghelan, for all his mystery, is not cen lanzadoii.

would cen stand by her side when the winter bit harsh? would he feed her, catch her fish with desperate, flailing paws when food grew scarce? she squints, and can see the faint outline of akiak's ribs through his thick fur. ishmira knows her answer.

she follows him out of the water with a shining, dripping fish in her mouth, eyeing him with both amusement and interest as he resumes his fishing. not once has he asked her to help— to provide as she has seen him do.

"thank you."

content more than she will admit to him now, ishmira bows her head to eat.