Stone Circle Way down inside honey, you need it,

The morning broke slow and gray, clouds hanging low like sodden cloth draped over the hills. Cole moved west, the damp underbrush muffling the sound of his approach. The scent of lichen and earth clung to him, familiar now, a part of his days as much as the breath in his lungs.
He did not speak. He never did when he scouted alone.
By the time he reached the edge of the stone circle, the mist had begun to lift, curling away like smoke from an old fire. He paused there—just beyond its boundary. The standing stones rose like silent sentinels, blackened with age, pocked by time. They held their secrets well.
Cole didn’t cross into the ring.
Instead, he stood still, yellow eyes scanning the clearing with quiet vigilance. Not out of fear, but respect. Whatever power lingered here, it wasn’t his to challenge. He’d seen enough to know better.