Mount Apikuni ◊◊◊;

the sound she made—a sharp, startled cry—snapped through geirmundr like lightning through stone. he moved before thought could form, paws gouging into loose shale, body surging forward.
his chest struck hers mid-fall, a collision of weight and instinct, and they went down hard together. dust billowed. rocks skittered past. but his arms—thick as tree limbs, trembling with strain—wrapped around her in full, shielding her from the worst of it.
he grunted, the sound torn from deep within, breath knocked askew as they landed against the slope. one paw gripped her waist. the other braced against the earth behind her.
du er okay, he muttered. 
and for a moment, he didn’t move. just held her, panting, her small frame clutched tight against the wide breadth of his chest as the dust settled around them. then—
he shifted. adjusted.
with a fluid strength born of old endurance, geirmundr slid her against him, dipped his haunches, and lifted her onto his back—without permission, without pause. his thick fur muffled her against him as he rose to stand once more, steady and stone-spined.
there was no question in him now.
she would not walk the rest.