Moonstone Quarry [m] snow trickles

Fleur stood under the fading glow of the sun, waiting, watching. Searching. Her eyes, awash in the colors of the setting sun, finally landing on the man who held her heart in his paws, only to make her bleed when he had left her…so many moons ago.

She remained where she was, the distance between them an echoing chasm of many emotions, some of which too deep to ignore. His words, filled with regret and acceptance, were timbered deep and low, reaching and caressing in their unspoken apology. She shivered, unable to stifle the reaction in which his voice tended to elicit in her.

He was not wrong—in her there was anger, but there was also a deep sense of relief, of joy, and an all-consuming inferno of an emotion she didn’t give name to, but knew with one touch she would unravel with it. It had never left, and now—now, it took all she had not to give in to the way her body wanted to crash into his, to feel him against her. Alive and whole.

Turning to him fully, her voice was low, but steady. “I am. You left us.” She took in a breath, but it did not stop her voice from breaking, crumbling and crashing like sea-beaten stone. “You left me. Why?”