Moonstone Quarry And I pray that I'll make it before the night's up

solharr had not slept much in many moons.

the night blanketed the quarry in hush—soft wind whispering through stone pillars, a chill carried by the thaw that never quite left this place. he had been walking the perimeter alone, thoughts too loud in the quiet of his skull, when her sound broke the stillness.

a whine, delicate and wounded, carried to him in the dark.

he turned without hesitation.

his steps were silent as he approached, a great shadow cast in pale moonlight. she lay within her den, but unease twisted her slender frame. paws twitched, caught in something unseen. her breath was unsteady. even the single tear on the stone felt loud.

he stood for a long moment, watching, the flicker of concern in his one eye.

then—

softly, carefully, he stepped forward and dipped his head to her shoulder, a gentle nudge. his voice low, worn smooth with gravel and time.
fleur, he murmured, barely above the wind. you’re safe. it’s just a dream.