Overture Downs spoken words like moonlight,

blackfell didn’t react immediately. his gaze settled on the woman, observing her as one might a strange shadow cast on familiar ground. the wind brushed past, carrying the remnants of her melody with it, but he made no comment on it. he stood like stone, unyielding, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow across the grove. he stepped closer, his massive frame moving with deliberate precision. the earth softened slightly beneath his paws, but his steps were firm, his control unshaken. he didn’t crowd her, but he didn’t keep an excessive distance, either. close enough to speak without raising his voice, far enough to leave her space to breathe.

blackfell, he said simply, his name clipped and solid, offered like an iron blade.

what’s a woman like you doing in a place like this? the question came low, his voice rough but steady, more observation than interrogation. his head tilted slightly, his fern-green eyes narrowing as they traced the lines of her posture, the way she carried herself. you don’t look like you belong here.