Stone Circle And the tears of people ran together

her teeth combed through a thicket of his fur. wondering if his soft hairs were for the winter. what he might think of when the snow stuck to the land longer than an afternoon.

a stag and it is like sleepy moon, isn't it? she hummed in response, knowing at once what shape he meant. she, too, did not have a proper name.

did skáld nap out here? alone? her gaze briefly fluttered about, finding just traces of the two of them for now.