Luneshale Pass lonely bones

Maeve regarded the silence with unbothered patience, eyes glinting in the fog as she waited, watching him. She knew better than to press, but there was something about him that pulled at her curiosity. The grunt, though, it was enough. She could work with that. He didn’t want to talk, fine. It didn’t mean she had to stop being herself.

The wind tugged at her tawny coat, but she didn’t flinch, just let the breeze ruffle her fur in time with her thoughts. She could be quiet too, for a while. "Not lost, then." She let the words hang in the air, her voice low, more a statement than a question. Her gaze flickered briefly to the horizon, to the expanse of nothingness around them, before returning to him.

Her words were deliberate, but not heavy. Maybe she'd push a little more later—Maeve always liked to nudge things until they snapped. Her ears flicked back as she studied him.  She was used to the noise of others, but there was something about him that made the stillness easier to breathe in. He didn’t speak, but his subtle movements told her enough. His question was clear, even without words: what about you?

Her shoulders shifted slightly, a subtle shrug as she finally broke the silence, her voice much quieter now, more measured. “Not much home to be had out here," She didn't mind it, though.