Luneshale Pass lonely bones

roan’s ears flicked at her words, and he turned his head just enough to catch her in his peripheral, sharp and searching. his gaze lingered on her, a quiet calculation in the way he studied her form against the morning light.

a home? the thought clawed at him, unwelcome. roan didn’t have homes, didn’t believe in the permanence of roots. he was a wanderer by nature, untethered to any place or promise.

a low huff escaped his nostrils, the sound carrying his disapproval, though it lacked outright hostility. his gaze returned to the horizon, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his unease.

the silence stretched on, heavy with things unsaid, as he waited for her to explain herself—or no