Phoenix Maplewood sweet adieu

the wind shifted through the valley, carrying with it the faint bite of cold and the scent of strangers. from the shadowed rise above, sega watched. his shape blended with stone and frost, pale fur streaked with the dust of travel, golden eyes glinting faint beneath the treeline.

two women—one flame, one ice. their voices drifted to him on the wind, low and careful, the sound of those who did not yet know if they stood in safety or in danger. he did not move at first, only listened, the rhythm of their words falling between the hush of the forest.

when at last he did stir, it was with the weight of quiet authority. his paws pressed soft into the earth, his frame cutting through the fog like the rise of a mountain. not hostile, but present. a guardian of this place.

he said nothing yet. only the faint rumble of breath through his chest, the low exhale of a hunter accustomed to being seen only when he wished.

gold eyes flicked from one to the other, measuring, patient. the chief of the great sky, silent among the pines.