Mount Apikuni ◊◊◊;

geirmundr watched her—watched the tilt of her head, the way uncertainty flickered behind her eyes before resolve took its place. she nodded, and he returned the gesture, slow and somber. they would climb.
but still, he hesitated.
not from fear, not from doubt in himself—but in her legs, worn thin by distance and want, in her breath, too shallow when she thought he wasn’t listening. this ridge was no gentle slope. it breathed cold and jagged. sharp as truth.
so he stepped behind her. not pressing, not crowding—just there.
a sentinel again.
should she falter, he would catch her.
should she fly, he would not chase.
his paws sank deep into the first stretch of moss-laced rock, and he exhaled through his nose like a bull sizing the storm.