Bitterroot Valley ✢ With the holes in his sneakers

sega’s ears lifted at the question, something warm kindling behind the steady gold of his eyes. he looked out across the valley—its sweep of pines, the quiet curl of mist, the mountains rising like old spirits around them. this place had held his scent, his steps, his breath. now it would hold veteran’s too.

he nodded once, firm.

great sky, he said, voice low and sure. this home.

a beat of quiet passed between them, the kind that settled deep into the earth.

wind name it first, sega added, gaze following the line of the glacier. i only keep it safe.

he looked back to veteran, tail giving a slow sweep.

you call it same. great sky.

another small nod, heavier with meaning.

yours, too, now.