Moonspear snowfox

Chakliux spoke, and she listened. And in his words, she found some sense of truth. She closed her eyes, her ears wilting back towards her neck as she tipped her head back to look up at the sky.

In the mountains, we could not afford to slow. It was what had made her such a busybody. Her throat clicked when she swallowed.

This is not those mountains. The mountains I knew, these are not those. Her periwinkle eyes opened again, turning to find Chakliux’s. There was pain there, but determination to see it through.

Those mountains are gone. Perhaps it is time I stop thinking of them as present. She would never forget them, of course, and it was much easier to say it than consciously choose it. But she would steady her path along that route.