4/25/2025, 1:45 AM
the fish had been stripped nearly to the bone, the carcass no longer warm. morwenna’s tongue swept past her teeth as she stood above the remains, gaze casting outward toward the silver blue lake stretching like a sigh beneath the cloudy sky. gulls wheeled above, their cries sharp, unkind. she welcomed them.
so few creatures fed without taking something else.
the scent reached her before the sound did—brine, iron, the faint bite of tundra. not local. not saatsine. her chin rose, regal as ever, though her pelt was wind-worn and her eyes hollowed with the stretch of many nights.
her voice, when it came, was low and measured.
her gaze did not challenge, but it did not submit either. the man was tall, built like those born beneath colder suns. she took him in, noting the sharpness of grief he wore like a second skin. it was not a scent, not a look—it was the way he moved, the guardedness, the restraint. a man who had known loss and had not yet finished burying it.
there was no softness in her, not anymore, but there was a gravity to her that held the same weight. something like respect. something like recognition. two wolves with too many ghosts behind them, standing at the water’s edge.
so few creatures fed without taking something else.
the scent reached her before the sound did—brine, iron, the faint bite of tundra. not local. not saatsine. her chin rose, regal as ever, though her pelt was wind-worn and her eyes hollowed with the stretch of many nights.
her voice, when it came, was low and measured.
you walk quiet for a man of your size.
her gaze did not challenge, but it did not submit either. the man was tall, built like those born beneath colder suns. she took him in, noting the sharpness of grief he wore like a second skin. it was not a scent, not a look—it was the way he moved, the guardedness, the restraint. a man who had known loss and had not yet finished burying it.
i am morwenna,she said simply. no titles, no flourishes. those belonged to another life. she turned from the carcass and stepped once to the side, offering space.
if you hunger, the gulls have not yet picked it clean.
there was no softness in her, not anymore, but there was a gravity to her that held the same weight. something like respect. something like recognition. two wolves with too many ghosts behind them, standing at the water’s edge.