Swiftcurrent Creek when the moon sang,

Her gaze followed Morwenna’s as she turned toward the den, her own thoughts briefly flickering to paths she’d chosen in the past, where guilt had threatened to swallow her whole. "I’m here," she added quietly, as much to reassure Morwenna as herself. "Whenever you need to talk or—"

The brush of Morwenna’s muzzle against her shoulder silenced her words, the gesture small yet profound in its simplicity. It was an intimate act, one that drew the two of them closer in a way that words could not. Gjalla’s heart skipped a beat, an unfamiliar warmth flooding her chest. For a moment, she stood still, allowing the touch to anchor her, grounding her in something she hadn’t realized she needed.

Her lips parted to offer something, anything, but Morwenna’s quiet resolve stole the breath from her lungs. Gjalla swallowed her thoughts, nodding in response, her own expression softening with quiet determination.

“If there’s a whisper, I’ll hear it,” she assured, her voice steady despite the lingering weight of the conversation. “I’ll make sure of it.”

She paused a moment, letting the moment linger between them before adding, “Anything I can remedy before you do?”