Blackfoot Forest spit out your pride and lay yourself bare

For a moment, the only sound in the clearing was the whisper of the wind, brushing through the skeletal trees and tugging at the frayed edges of Gjalla’s composure. Her chest rose and fell, each breath sharp and cold, carving the stillness like the edge of a blade. She watched him go, his figure hulking against the pale snow, a shadow breaking away from the pack.

Blackfell’s words hung in the air, heavier than the frost, their weight settling into the cracks she worked so hard to keep sealed. "You’re a leader." The declaration burned more than the sting of his claws or the raw ache in her shoulders. It was a truth she’d been running from, an echo of something she’d been told once before, in a time that felt like another life. "You're meant for more."

Her lip curled, but not in anger. No, this was something colder, sharper—a grimace of frustration aimed squarely at herself. His challenge wasn’t in the words he spoke; it was in the space he left behind, a chasm she would have to choose to cross. The blood on her chest had cooled, the bite of the air numbing her wounds, but it did nothing to still the heat burning behind her ribs. The bitterness of it sat heavy on her tongue.

Her gaze narrowed, sharp and piercing, cutting through the distance between them as his form began to disappear into the treeline. In another life, maybe she would have been braver or wouldn't have sworn herself to another. That life was not this one.

“Fool,” she growled under her breath, low and venomous, but the word lacked its usual bite. Straightening, she rolled her shoulders back, ignoring the protest of sore muscles and the sting of open wounds.

She didn’t call after him, didn’t offer words of acknowledgment or protest. Instead, she moved. Her paws cut clean through the snow, scowling as she went. She wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of her hesitation, wouldn’t let him think she was chasing after him like some meek pup. But she wasn’t staying in these woods. Not alone. Not like this.

“Someone needs to keep your ass out of the fire.” She muttered, half begrudging. It wasn’t an admission, not quite, but it was enough. She followed, her shadow folding into his, her steps steady as she left the clearing behind. She wouldn't stay long, anyway.