Firefly Glen "Through the Refiner’s Fire" (Malachi 3:3)

periane did not lift her head at first, lingering in the hush that followed the stranger’s voice. her ears tipped forward, the only sign that she had heard. the night stretched between them, quiet but not empty.
at last, she shifted, lifting her muzzle from the cold stone, pale eyes tracing the silhouette seated by the trunk. the woman’s fur, kissed by the sands of the sun, gleamed under the moon’s pale light.
i greet you, she answered, her voice low, steady, carrying the weight of one who had spoken many prayers and heard few answers. she studied the woman for a moment longer before turning her gaze back to the sky.
you seek something too. it was not a question, but an understanding.

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