Sunset Valley What the future says,

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— she speaks truth.

he hates it.

her touch steadies him, slows the spiral, and blackfell sways beneath it—caught between fever and frost. the heat of her body, her voice, her mouth; the cold truth of her vow, his own. gjalla’s name spoken aloud strikes him like a stone to the temple, and he breathes harshly.

i know.

he cannot look at her—not at first. his eyes drift to the stone beneath her paws, the snow trailing her coat, anything but the blue flame of her gaze that had undone him time and again. his lips still burn from her kiss.

tell me what to do, morwenna.