Wapun Meadow leave a light on

uktark is already moving when she shifts. no rush, no flourish—just a quiet certainty to him.
he steps close enough that his shoulder brushes hers, broad flank angled so she can lean if she needs. a steady presence. his head dips, breath huffing low, and he braces himself for her weight without comment. if she stumbles, he adjusts; if she doesn’t, he stays there anyway.
easy, he murmurs, the word rough but careful.
once she’s upright, he turns them toward the cut in the land, the windcarved path that leads between the peaks. the bypass waits, familiar beneath his paws. home, for now.
he walks at her pace. short strides. no questions. no pressure. only the quiet promise of getting her there.
and if she leans into him as they go, he does not pull away.