Moonstone Quarry But I'll swim to you, swim for my life

the sound split the still air. a howl, high and thin—fleur.

he was already moving before the echo had faded.

solharr came fast, heavy steps pounding down the slope like thunder rolling from the mountain’s heart. the scent of cat hit him like cold steel. too close. far too close. he saw her then—his windflower—small, defiant, and facing down something twice her size.

he did not slow.

with a low, guttural snarl, he surged past her, placing himself squarely between the feline and fleur. his massive frame bristled, fur lifting down the spine. one eye burned with the fury of gods and the weight of bloodlines; the other lost, but no less sharp.

stay behind me, he growled low to her, voice like cracking stone.

his stance was wide, tail raised, body tense as a drawn bow. he did not roar—not yet. but the mountain cat would feel him, all the same.