Luneshale Pass lonely bones

roan stirred beneath the early gloom of morning, his body shifting against the cold stone beneath him. the vacant pass loomed like a graveyard around him, its jagged cliffs slicing into the mist that clung low to the earth. the air was still, heavy with the scent of damp rock and the faint musk of old prey trails, long abandoned. it was a land untouched, unclaimed, as empty as its name.

his sharp golden eyes cracked open, scanning the landscape that seemed to echo his own solitude. his breaths came slow and deliberate, the rise and fall of his powerful chest the only movement in the stillness. it felt foreign yet familiar, this place—wild and silent, a canvas for the unknown. a new chapter, perhaps, though roan wasn’t one for dramatics.

he rose with purpose, his movements fluid despite the stiffness of sleep. muscles coiled beneath his thick pelt as he stood, towering against the bleak horizon. the silence stretched, pressing against him, but he didn’t flinch. this was what he wanted—wasn’t it? space. isolation. to carve something of his own from this unforgiving place. the thought simmered as he began to move, each step deliberate, his broad shoulders cutting through the fog like a prow through water.

Maeve’s eyes gleamed like twin embers beneath the rising sun. She was drawn to the wild expanse, to the silence that called to her, even though it wasn’t her favorite company. No, Maeve craved the warmth of voices, the clash of personalities, the pulse of life in all its chaos. But sometimes, even she needed a moment to herself.

Her legs carried her easily over the rugged terrain, the wind tugging at the dark streaks of gray and tawny in her fur. As she neared the open clearing, a figure loomed in the distance. Roan. 

A broad form was impossible to miss, standing tall and strong against the void of mist and stone. Maeve snorted, a leisurely smile curling at the edges of her lips. 

Her gaze trailed over him with no pretense of decorum, the look sharp and direct, almost playful. "You’re a bit far from home, aren’t you, big guy?" She chuckled low in her throat, her tone teasing but not unkind. If he was a bit less towering, she might’ve asked if he were lost. Didn’t seem like the type to be wanderin’ without purpose.

roan didn’t shift when the voice cut through his silence, low and teasing like the wind that tugged at the edges of his coat. his jaw flexed briefly, the only sign he’d heard her at all. eyes of stormy gray turned toward the source of the interruption, slow and deliberate, before settling on the woman.

his response came as a low grunt, a sound that was more acknowledgment than answer. he let the quiet stretch between them, unhurried as he swept his gaze across her, sizing her up like one would a wayward steer. her easy smile didn’t faze him, nor did the sharpness in her look.

hm. a deeper grunt this time, one that carried the weight of his meaning. he wasn’t lost, wasn’t wandering aimlessly. if he was far from home, it was because he chose to be. he didn’t owe her an explanation, but he stood steady, letting the quiet between them speak as much as his lack of words.

his head tipped slightly, a subtle motion that seemed to ask, and what about you? no teasing in his stance, just a steady presence that wouldn’t be moved by the winds or her words.

Maeve regarded the silence with unbothered patience, eyes glinting in the fog as she waited, watching him. She knew better than to press, but there was something about him that pulled at her curiosity. The grunt, though, it was enough. She could work with that. He didn’t want to talk, fine. It didn’t mean she had to stop being herself.

The wind tugged at her tawny coat, but she didn’t flinch, just let the breeze ruffle her fur in time with her thoughts. She could be quiet too, for a while. "Not lost, then." She let the words hang in the air, her voice low, more a statement than a question. Her gaze flickered briefly to the horizon, to the expanse of nothingness around them, before returning to him.

Her words were deliberate, but not heavy. Maybe she'd push a little more later—Maeve always liked to nudge things until they snapped. Her ears flicked back as she studied him.  She was used to the noise of others, but there was something about him that made the stillness easier to breathe in. He didn’t speak, but his subtle movements told her enough. His question was clear, even without words: what about you?

Her shoulders shifted slightly, a subtle shrug as she finally broke the silence, her voice much quieter now, more measured. “Not much home to be had out here," She didn't mind it, though.

roan barely moved at her words, his broad shoulders rolling just enough to betray the smallest ripple of acknowledgment. his pale eyes, shadowed beneath his heavy brow, flicked to the side as if weighing her presence. silence lingered, stretching thin between them.

then, in a low, gravelly tone, he muttered, ain't that the truth.

he shifted slightly, a slow, deliberate motion that made space beside him. the gesture was subtle, unspoken, but there—an invitation of sorts, though his expression remained as unreadable as the mist curling around them.

Maeve caught the subtle shift in his posture, the faintest opening of space at his side. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Her grin didn’t return, opting for something softer. She moved closer, slow and steady, her steps deliberate as if not to disrupt the fragile balance they'd created. 

When she finally stopped, she didn’t sit—didn’t settle herself like someone eager to linger too long. Instead, she stood at his side, her lean frame angled slightly toward the rising sun. The silence wrapped around them again, heavier now, more purposeful. For a long time, she said nothing, her breath even.

“Suppose it’s up to us to make one, then,” she murmured finally, her voice low, almost lost to the breeze. It wasn’t much of a statement, more of a thought left hanging in the still air. She didn’t look at him, simply let her words drift like a leaf caught in the current.

roan’s ears flicked at her words, and he turned his head just enough to catch her in his peripheral, sharp and searching. his gaze lingered on her, a quiet calculation in the way he studied her form against the morning light.

a home? the thought clawed at him, unwelcome. roan didn’t have homes, didn’t believe in the permanence of roots. he was a wanderer by nature, untethered to any place or promise.

a low huff escaped his nostrils, the sound carrying his disapproval, though it lacked outright hostility. his gaze returned to the horizon, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease.

the silence stretched on, heavy with things unsaid, as he waited for her to explain herself—or no

She felt the weight of his gaze, sharp and deliberate, brushing against her like the wind that teased at the edges of her fur. She let it pass over her without turning, her eyes fixed on the far-off cliffs that seemed to guard the silence they shared. 

Her ear twitched at his huff, catching the disapproval in it, but she didn’t bristle. If anything, the corner of her mouth twitched, not quite a smile but close, as if she found his resistance expected, almost amusing. 

She forgot the implications she'd left in her words. “Oh, not like that,” she retorted, brows furrowing in vague amusement, stifling the scoff that tickled the back of her throat. “Just meant.. having someone else standin’ there when the morning breaks. Something to wake up to, at least.”

She shrugged then, the motion casual, but her posture betrayed a flicker of vulnerability, brief and fleeting like a shadow across the ground. “But hell, what do I know?” she added, voice lighter now, almost dismissive. 

Whether he wanted her explanation or not, she didn’t give him more. If he wanted her gone, all he had to do was say. Until then, she remained where she was, steady and unmoving, like she belonged there as much as the rocks beneath her paws.

he said nothing, just the barest flick of an ear to acknowledge her words. his stillness stretched, unbroken, though not uncomfortable. the woman spoke, filled the silence with her musings, and he let her. she didn’t demand answers, and he wasn’t one to offer them freely.

her presence didn’t press on him, didn’t irritate like others might. he could live with it.

when the quiet settled once more, he finally shifted, his voice low and rough, breaking the silence with a single word.

roan.

Maeve’s gaze flickered briefly toward him at the sound of his name, tipping her chin to watch him. She didn’t need to ask for more—he’d offered something, however small. It was enough.

The way he gave his name told her everything she needed to know—no grand introductions, no expectations. Just... this. The simplicity of it. “Maeve,” she replied.

She allowed the name to sit between them, the silence thickening once more. She felt the tension in his muscles, but it wasn’t a wall. More like the quiet weight of a decision not yet made.

After a long moment, the woman settled her haunches to the earth to sit, grounded at his side. A fleeting glance his way, but she kept her distance—just enough to show she wasn’t intruding, but that she was still there, as constant as the earth beneath them.  "S' good to meet you, Roan." she said.

roan’s ears flicked subtly at her voice, the only acknowledgment of her words. his chort rose low and brief, a sound that spoke less of amusement and more of a deep, understated understanding. slowly, he inclined his head, his eyes falling shut in a motion that was neither dismissive nor welcoming—merely indifferent, like the steady rhythm of the tide meeting the shore.

her presence didn’t trouble him, nor did it stir him to speak again. instead, the silence returned, heavy yet uncharged, a canvas left untouched. roan held no tension for her to prod at, no barrier for her to breach. just the calm weight of his own stillness, shared without expectation.

fade?

Maeve stood beside him, letting the silence stretch, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t the same emptiness as before, the kind that left her reaching for words, looking for something to fill it. No, this was a comfortable quiet—a shared space, as steady and unwavering as the ground beneath their paws.

They both knew it, perhaps without ever needing to say it aloud: there was no expectation here, no need to explain. Just presence. Her gaze remained on the horizon, following the path of the fog that drifted like a living thing. Her thoughts were far away, but for once, they didn’t feel lost.

---

fade indeed !