Shadow Mountain [m] And I think that she knows, I'm out of control

Hunst paused as Reverie stopped to tend to her paw, his eyes following her movements with silent patience. She was delicate in her own way, but fierce beneath it all, carrying an unassuming strength that had earned his respect—a strength River had seen, too, and which had sealed Hunst’s own decision to follow her. He stayed still, allowing her the time she needed, the rough lines of his face betraying no impatience, only the steady resolve of one who was accustomed to waiting.

Her question reached him, cutting through the quiet. "Why did you choose to come?"

Hunst exhaled, the weight of unspoken thoughts filling the air between them. It wasn’t an easy answer—not one he would offer her fully, though she deserved at least part of the truth. The real reason? River, his blood, his kin. River had asked him, but he hadn’t pressed, hadn’t commanded. Just a request—and in that, an implicit trust. Hunst knew River could have chosen others. But none with the same unbreakable loyalty or the familiarity with the cost of war that Hunst carried. No, River had only ever trusted him with this.

The thought of the Sea-Snakes brought a shadow to Hunst’s gaze. The Sea-Snakes—obliterated in one brutal sweep, their numbers thinned and options scattered like dust. They’d once been allies, but such alliances were brittle, easily shattered by the whims of war. Without them, Witch Island’s strength was tested, every move teetering on a thin edge. And River had sensed that, sensed how precarious it was to send Reverie alone, even in times of peace.

Hunst looked at her, his answer plain but firm. Because it had to be me, he said, voice low and certain. River trusted only me with this. He let the words settle, knowing Reverie could read the unspoken—that he had come for her, yes, but also for River. It was a family duty, a bond he would not break.

As she turned to lead the way, Hunst fell into step behind her, his gaze steady on the path ahead.