To Sephiran, it felt as if they had traveled far from the river in pursuit of the coyote pack. But their journey back to the river bank ended up being shorter than he had anticipated. He was still slightly out of breath when they reached the waters, but that didn’t stop him from dropping his head to connect his lips to the surface. He took a few long drinks of water, sloppily lapping it up with his tongue and washing away some of the blood in the process. The girl walked past him to submerge her limb into a shallower part of the river. He paid her no mind, aside from a single flick of an ear in her direction, and a gruff snort as he blew away the droplets lingering on his nose. She was splashing her arm around, trying to rinse away the blood there, to look at the wound he assumed. He wondered just how badly she had been injured, and how susceptible to more… devious acts, it would make her.
”You handled yourself well.” His head lifted from the surface of the water, dual gaze narrowing slightly as it settled on her. “You expected anything less?” He retorted, lips twitching into a sly and haughty smirk. As he looked down at her, he couldn’t deny the tingling warmth that was starting to brew within his stomach. There isn’t anything better than fucking after a battle. His father’s voice chimed inside of his head, and he took a few steps towards her to come up beside her. He thought back to the slaves his father had in their kingdom, and how after each training session, he would send Sephiran to pillage whatever woman he pleased. His pelt started to bristle, but not in a display of dominance. It was driven by lust. He took a deep breath before asking, “Do you know what you’re doing?” His head dipped lower, so he could bring her wound eye level to his gaze. He studied it, noting how many puncture marks there were. He didn’t have extensive medical knowledge, but he knew the basics. His grandmother had been an expert herbalist and healer, and her knowledge had been passed down through her son, and then him.
”Speech”
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