Firefly Glen a cathedral

elowen lingered at the mouth of an abandoned den, paws curled neatly beneath her body. her breath curls in soft tendrils against the cold, catching in her throat when she spots him—lorcan, standing there with the rabbit. her chest tightens.

she doesn't move closer, not yet. just watches. the way his frame cuts against the dying light, the way he claims the space like it's his own. the way everything about him feels effortless. a sharp pang twists through her, something she doesn't want to name.

it’s silly, she thinks, bitterly, that her gaze keeps slipping to the rabbit. it’s not like she’s starving; she’s fine. she’s been fine. but it’s the care behind it, the thought—directed somewhere else. not hers. never hers.

her ears pin back slightly, her tail low. she clears her throat quietly, enough to announce herself, though her voice, when it comes, is soft. subdued. 

"good hunt?" her gaze flicks to the horizon, then back to him, though she doesn’t quite meet his eyes. "envy’s lucky."