Chimera Fields in the eye of a hurricane, there is quiet

his breath curled from his nostrils, steady, even in the tension that strung the group together like a bow ready to snap. he had watched the girl—shadess—offer her womb like coin, and though the fire of his ancestors clawed up his spine in warning, he said nothing. for kukutux had spoken, and her word carried weight.

but it was lafayette’s voice that held him next.

four or five. possibly more. the chieftain gave a faint nod, slow, considering. coastal men, dark forest, hidden numbers. the scent trail would be enough. he could track a ghost through the dunes if need be. still, there was one thing he needed clear.

i do not fight for blood. sólhárr’s voice cut low through the cold, gravel-laced and firm. i fight for the safety of your kin. if this is rescue, it will be swift. precise. he stepped forward, tail raised, though not to dominate—only to lead.

you will guide. both of you. you will show me where they wait.

a breath. his jaw tightened, eyes burning sky-blue beneath the shadow of his brow.

and if they have harmed your women, there will be no forest deep enough to hide them.

then, at last, he looked to kukutux, a flicker of reverence softening the hard line of his mouth.

forneskja stands ready.