Bramblepoint old wounds

my girlie is playing hard to get ahah!
exit Aneira! <3
would love another if you're up to?

The wind curled between them, tugging at the silence he left in his wake. Aneira did not break it at once; she stood, still as frost-bitten stone, letting the weight of his words settle.
Protection, loyalty, future; Solharr spoke of them as if they were stone; solid, enduring, unyielding. But Aneira had learned that even the strongest foundations could crack, that words, no matter how firmly spoken, were not always truth. Still, she held onto the name of the place he had given her, turning it over in her mind like a rune carved into frostbitten bark. A path for the future, should she choose to take it.
And she could see it. Not just the pack, the life within it; but him. By his side, as a man and a woman, standing together like mountain and sky. But such thoughts were a luxury she would not allow herself. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. The old ways… once, they had been her anchor. Tradition, the Old Gods, the rites passed down like whispered prayers; she had held them close, woven them into the marrow of her being. But faith was brittle beneath loss. And now, like drifting snow, she found herself carried farther and farther away.
„The quarry,” she echoed, voice thoughtful, as though testing the shape of the word, the promise it carried, „If I come, it will not be to be kept. It will be to stand.” And though she did not say when, though she did not yet name her choice, there was something in her voice, in the way she did not refuse, that left the door open to the road ahead.
She stepped back, her figure slipping into the hush of the wilds, but before the wind could steal her away entirely, she paused; just long enough to glance over her shoulder. „Until then, Solharr.” A farewell, quiet but certain, before she disappeared into the cold. Surely, it would not be the last time she saw him.