Lake Rodney One fish, two fish...

Luhtar stood there, his broad frame tense but his expression softening as Galen’s words settled over him. The grin that had irritated him moments before now seemed less like a jest and more like the steady warmth of familiarity—something grounding. Galen had always been like that: a balance to Luhtar’s rougher edges, a calm against his bluster.

The golden wolf’s indecision didn’t escape Luhtar’s notice. He wasn’t the type to press, but he could see the hesitation, the way Galen’s gaze flickered to the river as if looking for answers in its flow. It stirred something protective in him, though he didn’t show it outwardly. Instead, he let his shoulders relax and offered a slow, steady nod at the softly spoken words.

“Good.” Luhtar said after a pause, his voice low and gruff but lacking any edge. He stepped back, his posture relaxing slightly, though his yellow eyes stayed fixed on Galen. “But not long. You brood in mind, I do not help you out.” He said with a pointed look, brows furrowing with mild concern.