Bearclaw Valley Far across the blue waters

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smoke broke through the last line of trees with the boy tucked close behind, the air shifting cold and hollow as bearclaw valley opened beneath them. a wide, scarred stretch of earth. quiet in the way old wounds are quiet. the wind carried nothing gentle.

he stopped on the ridge, shoulders stark against the gray sky, breathing in the land like he’d been expecting it. like it hadn’t surprised him in years.

this is it, he said, gravellow, not looking back at @Tzar.

the valley sprawled below— broken timbers, old paths, shadows that didn’t move right. smoke’s tail flicked once, a faint signal for the boy to stay tight.

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