Snowforest Taiga you were laid in verse, living on a promised word

his ears cant backward, a flicker of confusion breaking through the cold, sculpted calm of his face. he tastes the air between them, heavy with her scent; dark pine and wild hide, smoke and snow. it coils in his chest like fire smothered beneath ice.

the woman stands as the sea cliffs do—unyielding. she commands by breath alone. he feels it, the weight of her eyes, the way her silence threatens to carve something out of him.

for a heartbeat, the only sound is the wind between them—whispering through his fur, catching the edges of his scars. and then, quieter, lower, something raw slips from him—

beautiful, he says, as if the admission costs him.

and still, his eyes hold her. glacial, storm-bright, unblinking.

a seal hunter stripped bare before the night.