Lost Creek Hollow my light

her movements gentle as she heeded him, tying the talisman into the dense fur over his heart. she was deliberate, mindful not to pull too tightly, her pale eyes flickering up to meet his as she worked. the soft murmur of his voice, the light touch of his claws against her chest—it all struck something deep and tender within her, a feeling that she dared not name.

his vulnerability was not lost on her. it softened her own edges, made her steps lighter, her words quieter. was this for her, this offering of himself? the thought coiled around her heart, warm and cautious. her fingers—no, her paws—lingered briefly against his fur once the task was done, as if committing the moment to memory.

when she finally spoke, her voice was low, steady, but held a hint of something hopeful. will you teach me saatsine ways? the words fell between them like a quiet plea, her eyes searching his for an answer she was almost certain she already knew.

she let the silence sit for a moment before adding, softer still, i am a fast learner. there was a flicker of a smile on her lips, small but genuine, as if to reassure him—and herself—that she was ready for this, ready for the weight of all that it would mean.

her gaze fell briefly to the carving she had tied to his fur, a quiet satisfaction settling in her chest. and then, once again, her eyes found his, steady and full of a kind of trust she hadn’t dared offer before.