"Veer," he said, slowly, deliberately, "she is an outsider. She does not belong here."
The words dropped like stones into the silence. Every vulture froze, feathers prickling, waiting for the eruption.
Veer's chest rose and fell violently, his fists clenched so tight his nails cut his palms. His father's tone, his words—calm, dismissive—were worse than any scream.
"Outsider?" Veer's gaze darkened, his eyes locking onto his father's with a cold, unblinking fury. His voice was low, but every word struck like a blade.
"Dad, she is an outsider for you… for these idiots. But for me—she is my life. And I will not make the same mistake you did… leaving my wife to die."
At that, his father flinched, the nerve struck too deep. His composure shattered, and rage burst from him.
"Veer!" he roared, his voice echoing through the tribe.
But Veer only bared his teeth, stepping closer, his own voice breaking into a thunderous shout.
