Moonstone Quarry The winter sunrise, red on white

the wind dry and cold, it scraped through the quarry with a sharpness that caught in the lungs. it tasted of stone and coming springs. beneath it, the world grew still—hunger rising where the trees thinned and the deer had gone quiet.

sólhárr stood where the moonlight touched the edge of a broken pillar, one forepaw rested against the smooth face of old quartz. the sky above was bruised, heavy with the promise of another long night.

he did not howl.
he often never did.

instead, his one eye scanned the narrow paths between ledges, the half-formed trails worn into the shale. his breath ghosted the air. he had been watching the new one—@Ezra. something careful in him. not soft. not wild. watchful. like a creature who had been hunted once, and had learned to turn sharp corners to stay alive.

a good trait.

the quarry feels open, exposed perhaps in a way that neverwinter forest hadn't ... it was easy for ezra to disappear within the thick forest, letting the trees conceal him in shadows, the sharp pine masking his scent. but it was true he hadn't explored much of the quarry yet, and likely the less chance there was for him to sequester himself away ... the better. he had a habit of it: of being a one-man army, locked away in the lonely fortress of his own making.

his pawsteps slow as he comes across solharr, studying the glimmering stone of the quarry's wall; appearing wrapped up in his own thoughts.

for a moment, ezra considers turning 'round and letting solharr to it, but it felt rude and ungracious and so the sonnenwasser boy lets out a low chuff to announce his presence.

the sound of ezra’s chuff folded into the stone and wind as if it belonged there, part of the hollow rhythm of the quarry—sharp, then gone. he didn’t turn at first. just kept his eye on the quartz-veined wall, where the sunlight cut jagged through a crack, illuminating nothing.

you walk quiet, he said, voice rough with disuse, but not unkind. that’s good.

a pause, long enough for the dust to settle around his paws.

then he turned. the hollow socket where his right eye had been did not flinch, did not seek. it knew better than to try. his good eye studied the man—slight tension in the shoulders, restraint in the voice even when none was spoken. held breath. a wolf who had spent too long alone.

i was going to hunt.

sólhárr’s ears tipped forward, neutral. the wind stirred his hocks.

come with me.

solharr's rough timbre breaks the silence, speaking that ezra steps quiet. for the briefest of moments, ezra worries that this has caused upset, but that spike of anxiety is quickly extinguished by the following reassurance that it is a good thing. in truth, ezra had never really noticed. likely, his unintentional stealth-mode had been picked up when he'd been basically on the run with his mother. escaping her toxic ex-what's-his-name and the violently sick druid, whilst masquerading as it as searching for gideon and anselm. he'd been searching for them ... but looking back, ezra wasn't so sure that was heda's goal.

the time for questions had long since been lost to him. she was gone, returned to God.

for a moment, is a struggle for ezra not to look at solharr's empty eye socket but he forces himself to focus on anything but, out of respect ...for the man and the rank difference.

lead the vay. ezra offers in agreement with a sage nod.

sólhárr's ear twitched at ezra’s accented words—lead the vay—and something low stirred in his chest. not amusement, not quite pride. just the quiet satisfaction of hearing a young man speak like he meant it.

he tilted his head toward the stone-bent trees, where the wind funneled cold and narrow, thick with the musk of prey.

good, he said simply, stepping forward.

his gait was measured, broad paws breaking no sound against the shale, the cut of his shoulders visible beneath thick ruff. he didn’t speak again for a while. he didn’t need to—he let the quarry speak for him. the rustle of brush. the sharp tang of buck piss. the hush that followed when the herd knew.

after a short ridge climb, he stopped.

he crouched low at the crest, eye trained on the clearing below. three—no, four deer grazed there, one larger than the rest. stiff-legged. older. slow to turn his head.

sólhárr shifted his weight and gave ezra a look—nothing spoken, only a tilt of his muzzle toward the right flank. an opening.

ezra is content to follow solharr's lead, gaze taking in the path before them, though perhaps not with the urgency he should've been. time had a much more luxurious feel to it, when not laced with the sharp knife pangs of hunger in his belly. selfishly, ezra lingers in it.

twin-sun gaze focuses on their quarry, noting but moving past the healthy deer of the small herd to focus upon the elder. the largest, for sure; but stiff with arthritis.

gaze catches the movement of solharr's muzzle from the corner of ezra's eye; he does not give any confirmation beyond the prowl forward, gaze locking in on the exposed flank. steps halt for a second, two, three —

ezra lunges forward, teeth snapping at their quarry's flank, hoping to corral it towards solharr.

solharr stood still as granite, gaze fixed on the stag that drifted near the edge of the herd. not a young buck. thick in the chest, legs bowed with age. proud still, but slow. he would not survive the next snowstorm. better it end here, with purpose.

ezra moved first—good. the boy did not need words to follow. he swept wide, pressing low to the frostbitten ground, and solharr, in turn, took the other flank. years of hunting carved into the lines of his stride; slow, then purposeful, then silent. they ghosted the outer edges of the clearing like shadows circling firelight.

the herd did not spook right away. not until ezra's teeth snapped close behind a younger doe, her yelp drawing the elder’s head. that was all the opening they needed.

solharr surged forward like the breaking of a ridge—no bark, no cry, just the thud of his weight into the tall grass, muscles coiled and unleashed. the herd exploded around them. hooves churned the earth. dust and snow flurried into the air. but the old one... the old one turned too late.