Moonstone Quarry Like blood upon the snow

the hide was old.

thick with grease and sun-dried dust, it held the weight of the kill still in its fibers. hair clung stubborn in coarse tufts, matted with old blood along the edges where teeth had first found flesh.

sólhárr worked it slowly—one paw scuffing along the surface, loosening the pelt from where it had stiffened in the cold. his claws scraped the ridge of the shoulder, pulling free the scent of time and sweat, the memory of pursuit across snow-packed stone.

a gift, once. a trial.
now just hide and history.

his breath moved through his nose in a steady rhythm, eyes half-lidded, listening—not for danger, not for prey, but for her.

@Anoana.

he hadn’t seen her since the last storm passed through moonstone, scattering scent and flooding the lower run. but she lingered still, like the whisper of frost before it touched the ground. her knowledge, her silence, the way her gaze reached through men instead of around them.