Noctisardor Bypass arrival

@Morwenna @Faliya

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they arrive at dawn.

there is a silver sheen in the air, fog lowering into the stretching valley. he leads his wife's daughter over the rocky crops of the bypass and down beneath into the snow-packed trails.

they pass by a deep grotto, and blackfell turns to glimpse back at the girl. the thick fog of his breath is visible in a hefty plume when he exhales; a tense sigh upon his nose and agape, black lips.

faust has been through, his scent thick on the wind. as is morwenna's. but there are several other interlopers, to which he can't help but to furrow his nose up in disdain. gods, he loathed strangers.

the devoted husband pauses upon a wide column of rock outcrop and looks down into the bypass, squinting against the beginnings of blinding sun peeking through thick clouds of winter. the brute gives his thick coat a shake and then calls into the heart of the territory for his mate, a note upon his tongue that speaks of urgency.

she would know.

fa'liya follows without looking at him. three days of silence—she has not spared him more than a few sidelong glances since they left the river. spite is a small, stubborn animal in her chest, and it is kept alive on principle alone.

fog clings to her fur, dampening what little warmth her thin body can make for itself. each breath rasps faintly, shallow, controlled. her limbs burn, and yet she is steadfast in her decision.

she is silent still when he calls for her mother, but her body is not. something in her stutters and everything else reacts violently. her shoulders hunch as if she has been struck and a wheezing cough tears out of her, sharp and ugly, folding her in on herself. her paws skid half a step before she catches herself, claws biting into packed snow. her heart slams so hard it hurts, a frantic, animal thing trying to escape her ribs.

she hacks once, twice, lungs protesting as her breath scrapes raw through her throat as if the cold itself has lodged there. she swallows hard, jaws clenching hard, a bitter taste blooming behind her tongue. she tastes iron and swallows it down just as fast.

she recovers just in time to turn her attention toward a woman—mother.

she crested the rise at his call—and the world stopped.

for one breath she could not move. could not think. the fog thinned just enough and there she was, slight and sharp and heartbreakingly real. not a ghost. not a dream hauled from grief.

her girl.

morwenna broke.

she ran.

the cold tore at her lungs, the stone cut at her paws, but nothing slowed her—not the ache, not the fear that this might vanish if she blinked. she closed the distance in a rush of white and breath and soundless prayer, skidding to her knees in the snow before her daughter.

fa’liya, her voice tore free at last, raw and trembling, the name a sob and a crown all at once.

she gathered her into herself without asking, without restraint, arms and neck and body folding around her girl as if to shield her from the entire world. her face pressed into the damp fog of her daughter’s fur, breath shaking, a broken sound caught low in her chest.

i have you, she whispered, again and again, fierce and disbelieving. i have you. you’re here. you’re here.

her hands framed fa’liya’s face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, her brow resting against her daughter’s with reverent care.

my star, she breathed, voice steadying only through sheer will. my girl. you are safe now.

she did not look away. she would never look away again.