The day between claiming her thrall and her meeting with the child's father had been... necessary. She had half supported, half dragged Kapra's increasingly delirious form far enough away to be somewhat safe before stopping for what battlefield medic's knowledge she had acquired over years of battle - enough to stop the bleeding and, gods willing, keep him alive to venture into battle again. Anything more would need to wait until they were able to find a capable healer willing to treat the wound.
Katja displayed no guilt, no timidity as she tracked the male to the place he called, though she recognized the chosen place for what it was - a threat. Certainly, the land was one of the more central locations in the northern continent not taken by a pack, but the stench of blood and death and fear was a distinct unspoken ultimatum. Release my daughter or else. If only he knew that Katja had no fear of or else... this was her element, not his. She lived and breathed blood and death like a fish breathes water, where this male would drown in it.
She ghosted silently through the otherwise-still field, trailed by her wounded cousin and the thrall, coming to a halt a short distance in front of the male. She wasted no time on pleasantries - they had no place in this business. "Your decision, Savvil?" Her voice, her eyes, her every mannerism was cold steel. No guilt, no sympathy, just readiness.
""
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