Jade Fern Grove to be a star you must burn

Gjalla’s stare sharpened, cold as the icy creek at her paws. She tilted her head slightly, watching him with an unflinching gaze that bore into him like steel on stone. Her first instinct was to lash out—to snap at him for speaking as though he had the faintest idea what she cared about, let alone why.

For a long moment, she didn’t respond, didn’t storm after him or bite back as quickly as he probably expected. Instead, she stood still, rooted like an ancient pine, the breeze stirring through her dark fur as she stared at his back.

“Holy shit, can I do anything without you climbing down my throat about it?” she snapped, as if she were addressing an unspoken accusation. Her lip curled, not in a snarl, but in something more bitter. "You barely even know me."

Her steps were deliberate as she closed the distance, her claws raking against the mossy earth as though each one could carve out her irritation. When she stopped, she was just short of invading his space, her posture tense but controlled—barely. “It’s not that serious, Blackfell. Not everything has to be some grand fucking tragedy, or failure, or—whatever it is you think this is.”

Her jaw clenched as she shook her head, exhaling sharply through her nose. “I’m not looking for a kingdom, or a legacy, or—hell, even a damn home right now.  I’m staying with them for my friend, not because I think it’ll magically fix me.”

She stepped back then, her tail flicking behind her with a sharp, deliberate motion. “But sure. Lecture me more about how little you care while you stew over my life choices like they’re your personal problem.” Her gaze flicked to his claws flexing against the moss, her lip curling faintly.

“If you’re so sure I’m making a mistake, then stop acting like it’s going to kill you when it happens.”