Ouroboros Spine i need those

sólhárr adjusted the weight of the deer pelt on his back, careful with its precious cargo. the gifts they carried were as much a symbol of his worth as they were a token of his respect for callyope’s kin—móðir and faðir of moonglow. his steps were steady, purposeful, though his gaze lingered often on her as they walked.

she had pointed to landmarks, pieces of her past woven into the land. he could see the flickers of emotion in her expression: the joy of homecoming mixed with the ache of leaving it behind. yet here she was, by his side, forging a new path.

when she turned her warm gaze to him, her question hung between them like the crisp morning air.

are you? he echoed softly, a smile tugging at his lips. his tone brimmed with quiet confidence, not for himself, but for her. her hope was his armor, her warmth his strength.

with a small nod, he added, fear not, elska. and in those words lay a promise—not just to moonglow but to callyope herself.