Firefly Glen a cathedral

lorcan stiffens when he hears her.

golden eyes snapping toward the den’s mouth where she lingers. the rabbit lays limp at his paws, but his attention shifts fully to her.

elowen.

dove.

she followed him here. followed envy. it doesn’t surprise him—he’d scented her trail days ago, faint but unmistakable. he just didn’t care to address it until now.

dove, he greets, his tone low and edged, but not unkind. the faintest curl of his lip hints at amusement, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he doesn’t move toward her, doesn’t claim the space between them. she’s watching him like she’s waiting for something, but lorcan offers nothing easy. never does.

you’ve been keepin’ up, his voice is smooth as velvet, droning on. at mention of envy, he offers only the flick of a wretched ear. nah, he hums. envy won't miss it. you hungry? with a single paw, he hooks it beneath the warm carcass and slowly pushes it in the direction of miss elowen. his own hungry eyes settle on her, steam-rolling across her. instead, he gestures toward the rabbit with a small tilt of his head.

winter’s coming, dove. gotta keep your strength.