Swiftcurrent Creek when the moon sang,

morwenna sat in silence for a moment, her thoughts swirling like the winter winds outside. the weight of gjalla’s warmth pressed gently against her back, grounding her. it was this closeness, this quiet understanding, that made her blur out the words she’d been keeping locked away.

i’m thinking of joining the caribou hunters.

she hadn’t meant to say it like that—so blunt, so out of the blue—but there it was. her chest tightened, and she glanced at gjalla, searching for her reaction.

the saatsine, she added softly, as though clarifying would ease the weight of her words. it’s… i don’t know. they feel… wild. untamed. her voice trailed off, unsure if it was excitement or fear knotting her stomach. like something i need to be part of.

her moonlit eyes flicked to gjalla again, almost apologetic. what do you think?