Lake Rodney One fish, two fish...

Luhtar watched Galen with a faint huff of amusement as the golden wolf struggled to manage the fish in his jaws. The sight of him teetering under its awkward weight drew a subtle smirk to Luhtar’s face, one that he didn’t bother to hide this time. Galen’s humor, his lightness, had a way of breaking through Luhtar’s rough exterior in a way few others could.

“Careful, or fish carry you to den,” Luhtar quipped, his tone dry but softened by the warmth in his gaze. He stepped forward, his broad frame moving with ease despite the weight of the hunt lingering in his limbs.

With a short shake of his head, Luhtar fell into step beside him, his larger form brushing lightly against Galen’s as they walked. The thought of leaving this behind—of returning to Forneskja and its ever-present weight of duty—settled heavily on his chest. These moments, these fleeting slices of simplicity, felt rare in a way he hadn’t realized until now. The quiet camaraderie, the shared jests, the warmth of a bond that asked nothing in return—it wasn’t something he often allowed himself to dwell on. But tonight, he let it linger.

“You make harder than is,” he said after a pause, his voice low but teasing, his gaze flicking to the fish swaying awkwardly in Galen’s grasp. “But maybe that you. Always make things harder than is.”

As the den site drew closer, Luhtar’s pace slowed slightly, his yellow eyes flicking to the horizon where the fading light bathed the forest in hues of amber and gold. “Galen,” he said suddenly, his voice gruff but steady. “What you do... I trust.”

It was as close to vulnerability as he’d allow himself, but he hoped Galen would understand.