The fire crackled, its heat washing over Nyara as she sat cross-legged on a woven mat near Hava. The elder female handed her a shallow wooden bowl filled with tender strips of meat and roasted root vegetables. Nyara murmured a quiet thanks before eating, the warmth of the food chasing away the lingering chill from the river.
The camp buzzed with low conversation. Males sat in loose clusters, their voices a mixture of rumbles and growls, while the few other females were surrounded by their mates, laughter and soft touches weaving through the night air. Nyara's ears turned to catch snippets of talk, the words strange yet compelling.
She noticed Luro returning from the far edge of camp, carrying a bundle of freshly cut firewood. His steps slowed when he saw her by the fire, but he said nothing, simply setting the wood down beside the flames before finding a seat nearby. His presence made Nyara sit a little straighter, though she kept her gaze on her food.
At the far side of the fire, a grizzled wolf beastman spoke, his voice carrying just enough for the nearby group to hear. "A mate's mark is not something taken lightly. It binds, it claims, it protects. Without it, there's no bond worth the name."
A younger male, perhaps not much older than Luro, frowned. "But what if the female refuses the male?"
The wolf's eyes narrowed. "It can be forced... but such a mark will sit far from the heart, showing all who see it that it was taken without the fullness of her will. That kind of bond fades over time, but it will never vanish unless the female chooses to cut it herself."
Nyara's tail twitched. "And if she does?" she asked before she could stop herself.
The wolf turned his gaze to her, studying her with the weight of years. "Then both feel it — a tearing, a loss that drives a male rootless. Without a bond, he cannot take another mate. Some wander until they fade away."
Hava's voice cut softly into the conversation, drawing Nyara's attention. "That is why bonds are respected, Nyara. They are a promise, not just between two, but to the tribe that they are whole together."
She glanced at Luro then, catching the way his eyes lingered on her before flicking to the fire.
The talk shifted to other matters, but Nyara's mind lingered on the idea of marks — the closeness of the heart, the strength or weakness of the bond, and the pain of severing it. The thought was as heavy as the shadows beyond the firelight, yet just as impossible to ignore.