Firefly Glen morgunsól

sólhárr huffed through his nose, a low sound of reluctant amusement as the stubborn woman planted herself before him. her defiance was admirable, if not mildly irritating. his golden eye flicked over her form once more—thin, too thin for winter’s bite, yet her resolve did not waver.

he relented with a slight tilt of his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in the barest hint of a smirk.

fine. do it, then. his tone carried grudging acceptance, though he shifted slightly, keeping some distance. callyope would not be pleased if another woman’s scent clung to his coat, and sólhárr was not eager to invite her displeasure.

he gestured with a flick of his paw toward the badger carcass. but quick. no waste time. winter cold, and i not want to explain. his words were brusque, but the tension in his posture eased slightly, a sign of reluctant trust.