Stone Circle lieut

briggs stopped at the voice, ears swiveling toward the yearling before his head followed, slow and measured. the boy was young, but he carried himself like a man—like a leader, or at least one forced into the role before his time.

his stance was stocky, solid, but briggs had seen bigger. fought bigger. his yellowed gaze swept over the boy, taking in the tension in his frame, the way suspicion laced his words. good. cautious was better than careless.

i seek a home for winter, briggs answered plainly, voice a low rumble, steady as the mountain. i can fight. hunt. pull my weight.

his tail hung neutral, his posture neither challenging nor submissive, just there—like the trees, like the cold, like something that had always existed and would continue to do so, regardless of the boy’s verdict.

if you have no need for another man, i’ll move on. a pause, gaze unwavering. but i’d rather not.