Moonstone Quarry I won't let you go, I feel it in my bones

solhárr stood still as stone, gaze unmoving as her voice washed over him. it wasn’t the water he watched now, nor the light flickering on the pool’s edge. it was her — and the storm that moved beneath her skin.

her question held weight. not a child’s wondering, but the ache of someone who’d buried too much and still dared to dig. the kind of ache he understood too well.

he stepped closer, slow, deliberate, each pawfall a statement. the scar down his brow cast its familiar shadow across one eye as he looked at her — truly looked. wind stirred his fur, but nothing else in him moved.

only if the heart knows it may break again, he said, voice low and rough as worn stone. dreams aren’t soft things, fleur. they bite. they bleed us. a beat, breath drawn deep. but sometimes... they carry us farther than fear ever could.

his gaze didn’t leave hers. didn’t falter.

hope is a risk. so is trust. so am i.