3/14/2026, 4:07 AM
fa’liya listens without interruption. ghost-talker. it is not a novel idea—the clan had been without one for some time, though she debated whether she was worthy of such a title. the role is not small, but it would eliminate the stress upon her body. she would not hunt, but her voice could shift the direction of the entire clan. it would be a position of comfort, if she could handle it.
fa’liya lowers her gaze again to the snow as they walk, lips parting in consideration.
hunting is what she understands better—if only by concept. the image forms easily in her mind: not running beside them, not keeping pace, but shaping their fear. turning them. guiding their movement toward the waiting hunters. it is a different kind of strength, and yet—
fa’liya lowers her gaze again to the snow as they walk, lips parting in consideration.
i do not know if the spirits would speak to me,she admits. she had not been given much time for faith, too busy coughing up blood to utter a prayer to ice-raven. there is embarrassment in the quick flick of her ears.
hunting is what she understands better—if only by concept. the image forms easily in her mind: not running beside them, not keeping pace, but shaping their fear. turning them. guiding their movement toward the waiting hunters. it is a different kind of strength, and yet—
i would not refuse it,she adds finally, carefully.
what must i do?