Moonstone Quarry The world that hardens as the harsher winter holds

lone amber eye shifted toward her as she spoke, his expression unreadable. the jagged cliffs and the sharp wind seemed to respond to the weight of her words, but solharr didn’t flinch. he had long since learned not to be swayed by what others feared or thought. the land had shaped him, molded him into something steadfast, like the stone beneath their paws.

he let the silence hang for a moment, as if the mountain itself were listening. when he finally spoke, his voice was calm, edged with the quiet strength of someone who had lived through hardship. the mountain does not bend, he repeated, his gaze drifting over the landscape before settling on her once again. it endures because it has no choice but to. the same could be said for us.

he shifted, his single eye focusing on the way her gaze traced the land, noting the faint flicker of recognition, of understanding. his own gaze returned to the valley before them, the place that had both shaped him and tested him.

you want to know what lies beneath, solharr said, his voice low, almost contemplative. not in words, but in actions. in what we do when no one watches. he took a step forward, leading the way with his head held high, his stride purposeful. follow me, and you will see. the mountain lives in every step we take, every decision we make.