Mount Apikuni That these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever

„No,” she murmured under breath, her tail curling beside her in a gesture of newfound ease, „It is my first time here.” Hemera, a mountain woman herself, had once called the towering peaks of the north home alongside her late family, yet she never shared the same pull her sister had toward them. And here, she had never set foot upon the mountains.

The fae observed as the mother’s gaze drifted toward a distant vale, perhaps her home, where her family awaited her return. „Have I…” plum gaze glanced back at the woman, „tresspassed?” A question tailed by a grin, one that held little weight, for she already knew the answer, yet she longed to hear it from her own lips, an assurance.

„Is a mother not meant to find warmth and safety within her home?” She arched an eyebrow, her confusion mingling with a quiet intrigue. She was a striking vision—her coat woven with shades of brown and grey, her yellow eyes gleaming under the sunlight. Hemera hungered for more, the unknown beckoning her forward.