Noctisardor Bypass stone craft

uktark inclined his head at her decision, a quiet acceptance settling into his stance. glad—yes. he felt it, even if he did not dress it in words. her return stitched a familiar line back into a life that had shed many. somewhere beneath the weight of new names and colder purpose, he wondered what might have been if time had bent differently, if he had known her better before the world hardened him. the thought passed without ceremony.
he stepped aside from the carcass, giving her room, then nudged the hide once with his muzzle, pushing it toward her.
take it, he said simply. for your den.
their whiskers brushed—nothing more—and he let her scent settle, catalogued and remembered. when she spoke of the pelt, of care and making, a low rumble answered in his chest. approval. gratitude, unspoken.