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

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the night split open around them.

her breath, his heat, the pale shiver of moonlight caught between their bodies. kanuux did not speak—there was no need. the dark woman’s words had already given permission, and in his world, that was enough.

his teeth brushed the line of her throat, a promise and a warning both. the low growl that rose from his chest was not anger, but want—deep, bone-heavy, old as the tide. he took as he was born to take: not cruel, but certain. the sea had shaped him for this—claim, crash, retreat.

their shadows tangled until the stars dimmed, until the wind drowned every sound but breath and salt. and when dawn came, soft and gray, the place beside her was empty.

only the scent of brine and fur remained, leading down toward the shore where kanuux moved again—his massive shape cutting through the fog, heading for the ice.

the seal-hunter was gone to his hunt.