Neverwinter Forest ttistigat

hárkonungr lay stretched across a flat expanse of stone, his amberhewn fur silvered by the moonlight spilling from above. the night was still, the air crisp and quiet save for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of water. his remaining eye was closed, his breaths slow and steady, as though the light itself had lulled him into a rare moment of peace.

the glow of the moon bathed him, its touch cool and gentle, tracing the hard lines of his body and softening the edges of his imposing frame. he shifted slightly, his paws curling beneath him as he drank in the quiet energy of the night. this was no idle rest—it was communion, a silent connection to the máni, to the ancient traditions he carried like a mantle on his broad shoulders.

the glow above seemed to pulse faintly, a rhythm sólhárr matched with each rise and fall of his chest, his thoughts turning inward, drawn to the timeless wisdom whispered by the light.

@Luhtar

hárkonungr.

luhtar’s voice is low, riddled with a distant solemnness. he strolls forward, doing his best to roll the thick tension from his winter-forged pelt. his breath comes in slow huffs, fogging in the crisp air as his head hangs low, yellow eyes smoldering.

he halts a respectful distance away, his gaze steady on the elder wolf. for a moment, luhtar remains silent, waiting to be addresses. then, his ears flick, and he shifts his weight, the sound of snow crunching beneath him breaking the quiet.

hárkonungr rose at the sound of a voice.

luhtar!

his tail gave a single slow sweep against the stone as he gestured with a nod to the open space beside him.

join me, sólhárr said, his tone inviting yet firm. the máni’s light is strong tonight. there is strength in its silence, peace in its glow.

he waited, his gaze steady on the man, offering both companionship and a space to unburden. moonbathing was not just rest—it was communion, and he offered it freely to those who sought it.

luhtar hesitates for a moment... but then he moves, willed by his leader.

then i join, he murmurs reluctantly.

he moves with a slowness unusual for even him, lowering his heavy frame onto the cool stone beside sólhárr. muscles tense beneath his thick coat finally slacken, his head dipping low once more as his gaze turns upward, catching the soft silver spill of máni’s light. the quiet hum of the night settles over him, seeping into his bones like a balm.

you always find peace in it? the moon’s light?

he shifted, making room for luhtar to settle beside him. the stone beneath them was cold, but the glow of the moon above seemed to balance its bite.

he tilted his head slightly, his gaze following luhtar’s to the sky. sometimes, he said simply, his voice low, steady. it is quiet.

his eye flicked to the boy then, studying the faint tension still lingering in his frame, the unspoken doubt etched into his movements. not every night is full of answers, luhtar, sólhárr murmured, his tone firm but not unkind. but the máni watches, even when we cannot feel it.

he let the quiet stretch between them, offering luhtar the space to find his own thoughts beneath the moon’s watchful glow.

his yellow eyes follow the elder's gaze upward, lingering on the vast, glowing sky.

he listens, his ears flicking faintly at sólhrárr’s words. they roll over him like the low rumble of distant thunder. luhtar’s posture softens, though tension still clings faintly to the edges of his frame, a shadow of something he’s yet to put into words.

"já," he says finally. "máni sees... even when we look down." his lips twitch in the faintest smile, self-deprecating but warm, and he leans back slightly, letting the cold settle into him as he turns his gaze skyward once more.

do you doubt máni? he asks, the words carrying no judgment, only a quiet curiosity.

he looks over from his position moonbathing. he is so unlike his father, but beneath the moon, he can see the resemblance from a drifting serenity. she watches, he murmurs, gaze briefly lifting to the sky before returning to luhtar. even when the clouds come.

there is no need to say more. the weight of máni’s light is enough.

i do not doubt, he says after a moment, his voice low, almost rumbling. but... sometimes i wonder. does she hear me? or am i just small voice lost in big sky?

his gaze falls back to sólhárr, the faintest hint of vulnerability flickering in his usually steady expression. the chieftain’s words settle over him like a quiet reassurance, the simple truth of them grounding.

you think she sees all? even us?

your father doubted too, he began, the memory sharp in his mind. and look where it led him—paranoia, mistrust. he built walls so high he could no longer see máni’s light.

he let the words hang for a moment, then dipped his head slightly, meeting luhtar’s gaze.

she sees all, brother. even us, in our smallest, quietest moments. you are not a voice lost in the sky. he huffed softly, a sound almost like a laugh. she’s listening. you just have to trust her.

luhtar shifts at sólhárr’s words, his gaze falling to the ground as if the weight of them presses into him. the mention of his father stirs something deep, a flicker of tension tightening his broad shoulders before he exhales slowly, letting the memory settle.

he shakes his head, with a huff.

trusting’s hard, he admits. but maybe máni brought me here. to hear this.

his lips twitch into a faint smile, rough and unpracticed but genuine. thanks, brother. you always know what to say. maybe she tells you what to say, hm? a light jest, an attempt to lighten the moment, though the gratitude in his gaze is unmistakable.

he chuckled, the sound low and warm, the corners of his mouth lifting. maybe she does, he replied, the faintest flicker of humor glinting in his golden eye. he rose to his paws, his broad shoulders rolling as if to shrug off the weight of their conversation.

keep listening, luhtar, he murmured, voice steady but gentle, like the steady current of a river. she’ll tell you what you need to hear, too.