Luneshale Pass lonely bones

Maeve caught the subtle shift in his posture, the faintest opening of space at his side. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Her grin didn’t return, opting for something softer. She moved closer, slow and steady, her steps deliberate as if not to disrupt the fragile balance they'd created. 

When she finally stopped, she didn’t sit—didn’t settle herself like someone eager to linger too long. Instead, she stood at his side, her lean frame angled slightly toward the rising sun. The silence wrapped around them again, heavier now, more purposeful. For a long time, she said nothing, her breath even.

“Suppose it’s up to us to make one, then,” she murmured finally, her voice low, almost lost to the breeze. It wasn’t much of a statement, more of a thought left hanging in the still air. She didn’t look at him, simply let her words drift like a leaf caught in the current.