Moonstone Quarry The wolf that always seeks his own kind

AW

solharr sat alone near the edge of the quarry, his gaze distant as his large paws cradled the fox hide. the fur, once vibrant with shades of russet and cream, was now worn and weathered, yet it still held the faint trace of warmth that reminded him of her. callyope. the name lingered in his mind, heavy and bittersweet.

he ran his claws gently through the fur, fingers tracing the familiar patterns that had once brushed against his side, her presence a constant comfort. her scent still clung to the hide, faint but present, a reminder of the bond they had shared. solharr’s chest tightened at the thought of her—her strength, her fire, her unwavering loyalty. but now, all that remained was this piece of her, a mere relic of a past that had slipped through his grasp like sand.

he breathed in deeply, the air around him cold, sharp, and without her warmth. it was hard, sometimes, to breathe without the weight of the absence pressing down on him. yet the fox hide—this simple thing—reminded him of who she was, who they had been. it reminded him of the promise he had made, to carry her spirit within him, to honor her memory in the strength of the pack, in the land they would build.

maybe a visit from miss @Kukutux?