Duskfire Glacier handful

it took time.

she loathed the movement of sun and knowing she was absent from his wounded side. yet she trusted herself to have led him to safety, to have given him a private place while he laid in healing.

moss.

she flipped over stones, she dug through old places and tore at cold trees.

eventually something gave in her searches. it was not much but anything was better than nothing. so with what little she found, she returned to him. unexpectedly relieved to see him still there, untouched.

as if he might have had the chance to go anywhere —

she said nothing as she neared. trusting him to still have a nose that would scent her presence, how her perfume mixed with his iron-tinged cologne.

the little moss she had found settled near her paws, awaiting instruction.