Jade Fern Grove to be a star you must burn

@Gjalla

His heavy paws crushed ferns and moss underfoot, leaving dark impressions that slowly faded into nothing but evidence of his passing. The beams of sunlight that pierced through the tall, sentinel-like trees dappled his dark coat in fleeting patches of light as he passed underby.

Behind him, he could hear Gjalla’s steady steps, her movements quieter but no less determined. She didn’t complain, didn’t ask questions, and he didn’t offer anything to fill the silence. When he finally stopped, it was without warning, his broad frame stilling as his ears flicked toward the faint gurgle of a creek nearby. He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch Gjalla in his peripheral vision.

He wondered when she was going to leave. It was inevitable, if he knew anything about her. She’d run once, hadn’t she? Left behind the cage she hated, the crown she’d been promised, the life that had been set before her.

What was to stop her from running again?

Blackfell snorted softly, shaking his head. It wasn’t his concern, not really. She was here now, and that was enough—for now. Still, as he watched her, standing just beyond the edge of the creek, her dark coat catching the dappled light filtering through the trees, he found himself wondering.

It was a nice fantasy, wasn't it? A Stormrift princess at his side? The idea of seeing her turn into a Queen, his Queen. At the same time, the very thought disgusted him. Blackfell wasn't one for dreaming. He stamped it down.

“I’m moving on at dawn,” he said over his shoulder, his voice matter-of-fact, as if her decision didn’t matter one way or the other. They had been orbiting the same few patches of land over the past few days while Blackfell got his bearings; put his cracked demeanor back together. He was confident, now. At the very least, prepared.

An awkward, burning tension lingered upon his raven pelt. Rejection had never wounded him. Still...