Blacktail Deer Plateau ◊;

geirmundr watched her eat with the quiet stillness of stone—unchanging, unmoving, save for the subtle roll of muscle along his jaw as he swallowed tension, not hunger. her words, were soft, but he heard them. he didn’t know the tongue well, not hers, but the meaning was plain enough in the way she tore into the meat, in the desperate gratitude of one who had run too far, for too long. 
he didn’t answer. only nodded once, the gesture weighted but not heavy. there was no pride in the offering, no expectation. he had fed her because she needed feeding. 
that was all. 
and the look on his face—rugged, shadowed, unreadable—carried nothing sharp. nothing hungry. i am no threat, it said, loud in silence. not to you. not to women. his kind of violence had always been reserved for men. the ones who deserved it. 
with that, he turned slightly, his massive form angling away, giving her space now that she had found breath and strength again. he did not leave. but he would not loom. not over her. not ever.
if she wanted to come out, she was more than welcome.