Stone Circle i have often dreamed of a far off place

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been here awhile, he answered, voice a rough scrape of gravel. not quite yes, not quite no. his eyes swept the valley—its bends, its wind, its watching quiet. learnin’ the lay of it.

why linger in a place like this? he didn’t say. didn’t need to. the silence filled in the edges: a wolf worn thin by miles, mapping the land the way a man maps trouble—by scent, by scar, by instinct.

he flicked his tail once.

why? you lost? smoke asked, tone low, almost an afterthought.

then he fell quiet again, letting them talk, letting the land breathe, watching both young faces with that steady, unblinking calm of a wolf who’d learned more than the valley meant to give.

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