Kildeer Rest otter boy

his words, his expression—they carried a weight she couldn’t ignore. but she wouldn’t press. no mother, no wife, should shame a boy for his burdens, however light or heavy they seemed. instead, she cleared her throat softly, her voice warm and lilting, though broken in the tongue he seemed more at ease with.

herbs. she paused, offering a small, encouraging smile. cache. you help?

her tail swayed faintly, a quiet invitation. she made no move to press closer, giving him the space he seemed to need. yet there was something open, almost gentle, in the way her ears tipped forward, her expression one of calm patience. whatever lingered in his chest, it could wait—sometimes, the act of doing, of simple hands and simpler tasks, could mend what words could not.