Haunted Wood there is a light

sólhárr’s ears flicked forward, catching peach’s words, though the meaning took a moment to settle. her voice had a soft, strange rhythm to it, her accent curling around the words in a way he wasn’t used to. he watched her, studying the stillness in her gaze, the calm confidence that kept her rooted by the river.

he glanced toward the deer, lingering for a beat as if to consider her question, then shook his head slowly, deliberate.

not… hungry, he rumbled, his voice low and deep, as if unused to shaping these softer words.

his gaze returned to her, feeling the weight of her intent stare, her name still echoing in his mind. sol-hárr, he said, his name emerging slowly, each syllable measured, the rough edge of his accent shaping it.

this peach—he found himself strangely intrigued by her manner, by the careful way she held her ground, choosing her moments as if each one mattered.