Neverwinter Forest May I stand unshaken

for @Solharr @Callyope

A dull throbbing pain radiated from his side, a sharp, insistent ache that felt as though something had torn into him—deep, savage. He felt cold, a chill that settled deep in his bones, rattling his teeth. He opened his eyes, but the world around him was a blur of shadows and dim light, the edges of his reality wavering like smoke.

His mouth was dry, an acrid taste of bile and blood clinging to his tongue. His throat burned as he tried to swallow, but nothing came—only the hollow ache of thirst.

Pain surged through him, sharp and jagged, pulling him back to the present. A gash tore deep into his side, its raw edges exposed. Torn flesh, muscle.

His vision swam as he weakly tried to rise, his legs unsteady, trembling beneath him. The world tilted, spinning away from him, and he collapsed back down with a groan, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

Somewhere in the blur, a figure moved, a presence near him. Then, a voice. Another voice. Two voices. His eyelids fluttered weakly as he drifted back to unconsciousness.

sólhárr's ears twisted toward the noise, his body stiffening as the ruckus ahead broke through the otherwise quiet path they traveled. instinct flared hot in his chest, and without hesitation, he moved to place himself between callyope and whatever lay ahead.

behind me, he murmured, voice low but firm, his fiery eyes scanning the path as he moved forward, muscles coiled like a spring.

it didn’t take long to spot the source of the commotion—a wolf, battered and bloody, sprawled on the ground. the stranger’s breaths came shallow, his body trembling as though he’d been dragged from the edge of death. sólhárr’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer, his stance protective but not threatening.

he’s hurt bad, sólhárr said, glancing over his shoulder to callyope. his gaze softened slightly when it landed on her. elska… can you help him?

he knew her skill, her heart, and while his instinct was to protect, he trusted her to mend what could be mended. he only hoped this wolf’s luck hadn’t already run out.

embarrassed that i missed this smh feel free to double tag me next time <3

something.

churning, burning, in the unknown. her heart lingered somewhere near her throat. it is only sólhárr's strength that kept her steady.

she is silent.

she stays comfortably behind him. not afraid to let him lead them now, to be her warrior and shield.

yet it is her heart that finally softens as she glimpses the scene. sólhárr's question lingered heavy in the air. amber gaze examined him closely. she did not wish to do any work out here but...

if you think it safe to move him, it would be better to tend to him at heimtré... she told her beloved softly. she wished to reach for the silver man now, to search him and see if he was fever touched in any way she could tell.

I DIDNT WANT TO BOTHER </3 noted for future though! <3

His head swam.

Instinct urged him to fight, to lash out before they could harm him.

But his body would not obey.

He managed only a low, trembling sound, barely a growl, as he struggled to focus on their forms.

Stark’s breath wheezed softly. These wolves were unknown, and that should have unsettled him, stirred some coil of distrust. Perhaps that was the blood loss talking, or some desperate hope clawing at his rational mind.

His world narrowed to a pinpoint of light, flickering before him. Gritting his teeth, he tried to speak, to demand something—he didn’t know what. No words came, just a rasp of breath and a faint twitch of his paw.

The last thing he felt before the blackness claimed him once more was the subtle shift beneath him.

sólhárr stood steady, his dark gaze fixed on the injured white male before him, his muscles coiled with quiet tension. callyope’s words, soft yet certain, drifted to him, and his ear flicked to acknowledge her. she spoke with reason, her compassion tempered by caution—a balance he admired.

he dipped his muzzle slightly toward her, a sign of agreement. you are right, my woman, he rumbled, his voice low and resolute. heimtré would be better for him. safer than out here.

his gaze flickered to the pale wolf, examining him with the sharp precision of a seasoned hunter. sólhárr could see the toll the injuries had taken, the faint rise and fall of his chest the only sign of life. the growl, weak and trembling, did not faze him.

i will take him as far as the edge, he added, his tone leaving no room for argument. but i cannot step into heimtré. their lands are not mine to tread, but yours. there was no bitterness in his words, only a matter-of-fact acceptance of boundaries.

without waiting for further discussion, sólhárr moved forward, careful and deliberate as he lowered his broad frame beside the injured male. he shifted his weight, preparing to lift and carry him. though his strength was formidable, the task demanded care—this was no prey to haul without thought.