Shy Deer Steppes Nobody's soldier

there used to be wolves here, roan said, his voice low, rough as the stones underfoot. his eyes didn’t stray to synder, fixed instead on the horizon where the land rolled out in waves of desolation. he moved with purpose, every step deliberate, his broad shoulders cutting through the cold air like a blade.

he didn’t slow as she fell in step beside him, her lightness a sharp contrast to his own grim presence. for a moment, silence filled the space between them, heavy and unyielding. then, like a jagged edge, his words came again.

a lot of them. but there...there was a flood.

his jaw tightened, the faintest flicker of something—memory, perhaps, or regret—briefly crossing his hardened features. but it was gone as quickly as it came, swallowed by his stoic nature.

he didn’t explain further. didn’t ask if she wanted to know more. just kept walking, his pace steady, his focus unbroken. the land held its own ghosts, and he had no interest in summoning them.