Whitebark Stream moon knight

star eater hums softly, brushing a gentle touch along the fresh scrapes marring his muzzle. her touch is careful, practiced, though she does not coddle him. blackfell is not the type to be handled delicately, nor would he want to be.
he is not a boy anymore, she echoes, dabbing a mixture of crushed herbs along his wounds. the sting earns a slight twitch of his brow, but he does not pull away. but he is still your brother. there is something knowing in her tone, but she does not push further.
when he chuckles, she finds herself laughing too, the sound softer than usual. lighter. it feels strange, after all that has happened, but not unwelcome.
i will try, she concedes, tilting her head as she works. for your sake. a pause, and then, quieter, for gjalla.