Wild Berry Meadow [m] feelin' herself

roan watched her approach, his gaze steady and unyielding, like stone against the shifting breeze. he said nothing at first, his silence heavier than words. the flick of his ear was the only acknowledgment of her presence as she closed the distance.

when he finally spoke, his voice was low, a rumble that barely disturbed the meadow's quiet. what do you want? the question was direct, unadorned, a test of intent as much as an invitation. he stood firm, robust and unshaken, the embodiment of stoic resolve.