Shadowwyn Moor Broken Crown

the blonde hunter tilted his head, lips parting with a soft huff through his nose. it was not pity he wore, but a quiet sort of recognition.
you… love deep, he said, the words slow, strained through an accent thick with stone and wind. this… he gestured with his snout toward the man’s chest, where the pain clearly lived, this mean heart still beat strong.
a pause.
coväh did not sit, but shifted—weight rolled back into one hind foot, as though discomforted not by the emotion, but by the depth of it. his ear twitched. he thought of ayovi.
the way her laugh still tasted like salt. how her eyes were a storm that softened for no one but her own. he saw her every time he closed his eyes—sometimes a curse, sometimes a prayer. the only remnant of home. 
yes, he murmured, husky. woman. strong one. from home. his voice trailed off with a breath like bark stripped in winter. 
his head dipped in a slow nod. golden gaze flicking up.
he stepped closer, just enough for the wind to no longer separate them. voice gentled, words less broken. but… i stay. like you stay.
another pause.
this lucky, coväh said. to wait. to want. even if it hurt.
his shoulders rolled back and he offered the faintest smile, crooked and wolfish.
what name you?