Luneshale Pass You are my favorite what if, you are my best I'll never know

the air had been thin with dust that morning, curling soft against her muzzle and tangling in the fine down of her throat. she had wandered from the caches on quiet paws, her mind steeped in the same thoughts that had carried her since kemal’s offer—verapaz.

a home, perhaps. though still, she was learning what kind of home it would be.

it was then that she saw him. red, like sun-dyed clay, broad through the shoulders yet burdened by some unseen ache in his step. the stranger walked the borders as if counting each heartbeat of the land. she thought him proud. she thought him heavy.

senhor, she called gently, her accent laced in the softness of the coast, each consonant a wave upon stone. you walk... far, she noted, pausing a respectful distance away. dark lashes swept down, then lifted again, searching his face. does your shoulder pain you?

there was no fear in her, only the quiet curiosity of one who had known solitude too long. a small tilt of her head followed, a tentative smile playing upon her lips.

i am margarida, she offered, but they call me magui. the name came feather-light, like something secret slipped into his keeping. perhaps... we walk together, sim?