Swiftcurrent Creek when the moon sang,

Gjalla’s breath hitched in her throat as Morwenna’s forehead met hers, the quiet pressure speaking more than any words could. There was no need for more—no need for further promises or explanations.

She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the warmth of the moment settle into her bones. It was rare, this kind of closeness, and even rarer to let it in without hesitation. But here, with Morwenna, there was no room for doubt. It was a bond forged over time, built from the shared weight of their lives, their pain, and their hopes.

When Morwenna spoke, her words were like a soft, inevitable truth—one that Gjalla knew deep down, even before they were said aloud. Yes, it would always be this way. Their paths would always cross, intertwine, no matter where they went, no matter where the herds might take them.

Gjalla nodded affirmingly. There was no question in her heart, no hesitation in her soul. You’ll never be alone.

---

exit gjalla