Moonstone Quarry dragonspine

Her breath hitched, small and almost imperceptible, as frost melting too fast beneath a sudden sun. She did not face him right away. Instead, her eyes traced the mist curling at their feet, the ripple of wind across the quarry pools, anything but the warmth he offered so simply. So unexpectedly! Her shoulder shifted, not closer nor away, but a subtle adjustment, a branch bending beneath snow. She lifted her head slowly then, and the veil of pale lashes parted to reveal eyes that no longer shied from his. Turquoise, caught between silence and something softer.
„The Quarry is kinder to me than most places I’ve known,” she murmured, her voice nearly carried off by the dawn breeze. Then, with a faint tilt of her head, she let her eyes trail down the worn stone path ahead, as if considering not just the way forward, but the presence at her side.
„And if it remembers us…” she added, turning her body toward the direction of the light, „then maybe it remembers the sound of footsteps beside mine.” Her limbs moved with quiet certainty, fur brushing softly against the air.. She walked not as one fleeing the past, but as one willing to meet it, one slow step at a time. She passed him by half a pace, her shoulder nearly grazing his chest, and glanced back; not to check if he followed, but because a part of her hoped he would.
„Come,” her voice a hush just above the quiet,, „let us see what the stone will tell us.”