Moonstone Quarry The bear that keeps to his own line

a breath stirred in his chest—not quite laughter, but something gentler, more amused. sun man. he turned the words over silently, letting them warm the frost-slick edge of his thoughts. she was bold, in the way of springlight breaking through mist.

he did not stop her brightness. did not quell it with stone or silence. instead, he met her gaze with something level, steady, and behind it—pride. not loud, not indulgent, but honest. she had come far already, and he had seen it.

hm. a simple sound, approving.

when she answered with her lightness, he dipped his head slightly, acknowledging the spirit she carried without needing to name it.

we take antlers as token.