gjalla watched the pale woman shift, the stiffness bleeding out of her posture in measured degrees. an agreement to peace, even if temporary. it eased something small in gjalla’s chest, though her expression didn’t change.
she angled her body a touch, enough to face the woman fully. dawn slid over the stranger’s coat, picking out the places where scars lay beneath the pale fur. a fighter. a survivor. there is a hollowness behind those golden eyes, a wound deeper than anything teeth could leave unhealed.
she angled her body a touch, enough to face the woman fully. dawn slid over the stranger’s coat, picking out the places where scars lay beneath the pale fur. a fighter. a survivor. there is a hollowness behind those golden eyes, a wound deeper than anything teeth could leave unhealed.
no.the word came flat, unadorned.
there are packs, some clans.a beat.
but nothing like what you’re searching for, if our definitions are the same.her crown chin tucks in formal greeting, accompanied by a slow blink.
i am gjalla, of stormrift. who is it you search for?
