"The bearer has proven her worth_"
" Chief. Wait. "
Granite was speaking but his voice got interrupted by a high pitched female voice.
A female.
Young one.
In her twenties.
The tribe's Saintess.
The murmurs died as the crowd parted like water around a stone.
She moved through the gap with practiced grace—chin high, shoulders back, every step calculated to draw attention. Her fabric were finer than anyone else's, decorated with polished stones and intricate tribal patterns that was astonishing and beautiful at the same time. The dusty brown waves of her hair had been carefully arranged, adorned with small flowers despite it being late winter.
But it was the tattoos that made Alex's breath catch.
Mate marks covered her arms, her shoulders, her neck—visible where her fur fabric couldn't cover.
