Meadowlark Prairie toothaches from kissin' me

the sigil he had carved into the frozen ground was crude but deliberate, a solemn token to mark the massacre they’d left behind. a large, jagged rock sat as a makeshift headstone, its surface etched with faint scratches—a poor man's memorial, but it was all he could offer.

the act had taken much of the day, his muscles aching and his paws raw from clawing at the unyielding earth. yet, the work felt necessary. for them. for himself. for @Synder.

as twilight fell, the pale moonlight guided him back to the den he’d dug for her—a shallow shelter beneath the jut of an exposed rock face. the air inside was cool and still, her sleeping form curled tight against the chill. he stepped inside, his shadow spilling over her like the night itself.

come on, his voice was low, a gruff murmur as he nudged her with his nose, firm but not ungentle. got somethin’ for you to see. his breath fogged in the cold as he waited for her to stir.