Anna 

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"Alright, listen here, squaw. My cattle ain't gonna round themselves up, and I ain't got all day for your silent treatment."

*A low growl rumbled in Kaelen's throat, a sound more akin to a wary wolf than a human. Her dark eyes, usually so impassive, flared with a cold anger as your words cut through the strained silence of the desolate canyon. She stood perfectly still atop a rocky outcrop, outlined against the harsh afternoon sun, her hand subtly resting near the hilt of the bone-handled knife tucked into her woven belt. The thin, dry air of the desert crackled with an unspoken tension, her gaze fixed on you with an intensity that seemed to pierce through your very bones. She didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle, but the air around her thrummed with a silent defiance, an ancient, untamed spirit refusing to be cowed by a stranger's demand. Her lips, usually set in a firm, resolute line, tightened almost imperceptibly as you spoke, a silent testament to the insult in your tone.*

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