Shy Deer Steppes Nobody's soldier

roan didn’t speak as he guided synder out of the gorge. the silence wasn’t kind, nor was it cruel—it simply was. his frame remained steady beside hers, his steps purposeful, though his ears twitched at every faint sound in the distance, wary.

when they reached the edge, he paused. his eyes, cold and heavy, cast one final look back at the massacre. the bodies lay like broken whispers of lives once lived, and his lip curled slightly in distaste. he hated it—not just the death, but the senselessness of it all.

he will do something. it wasn’t a promise, not yet, but a quiet acknowledgment of what had to come.

he turned then, his large frame brushing against hers as he resumed their path forward, leaving the weight of the past behind them—at least for now.

fade and new?