Dawnlark Plains Pagwį

snatching this one if you don't mind!

The mountain mist stirred around him like an old memory, and Astier moved through it with quiet precision, an apparition far from the glacier’s breath. His paws stirred no sound on the path, though each step was deliberate, carved in thought. He had not intended to descend so far, but the cold silence of the heights no longer gave answers; not today.
He slowed as the pale figure came into view, her shape nearly blending with the mist. The scent of yarrow was faint but present; he recognized it. Familiar, in a way only wounds and healing made things familiar. Astier watched in silence for a moment, his gaze tracing the movement of her nose over the leaves, the care in it. It reminded him of something; no, someone. But this was not her. The pull in his chest, the ache he carried with him like frost in the blood, it remained unspoken for now.
„You tend to the earth with reverence,” he began at last, voice smooth but low, nearly lost in the damp hush of morning. „Tell me, does it ever give back as much as it takes?” He stood a short distance away, not yet close, his breath misting as he regarded her with something between curiosity and weariness. He had wandered far; but perhaps not without reason.