Stone Circle fraulein

AW

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smoke came in on a hard wind. thin, but not broken. his broad shoulders no longer stone, now lichenbone, carved by distance and winter miles. he walked like a wolf who had shed too much but refused to fall.

his steps were hard. each one placed with the same grit he once used to move cattle across frozen plains. his tail hung low but not in surrender. only in weariness. his eyes stayed sharp. nothing in him bent, though his spirit was desperate to. 

when he reached the edge of the clearing, he stopped. lifted his head. breathed the air like he meant to claim it. from what he observed there'd been no one around. just the scent of caribou wafting past his nose, and the rumble in his stomach to remind him that he was alive.

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