but she moved with it.
her breath steamed from dark nostrils, her flanks slicked with the frost of her ascent. it was not her paws that burned as they tore across the stone—but her heart, that heavy, tethered thing that would not stop until it found him. it had found her daughter. her fa’liya. tiny and screaming still with life.
but the boy.
caan.
her rain.
her son, the second breath she ever drew after the fall.
the forest split open beneath the thunder of her charge. snow burst like stars at her heels. scent. scent. her pace faltered just once when she caught it—faint, but true—and she threw herself across the frozen threshold of a half-buried clearing.
there he stood. small still. whole still. and alone.
caan,the name cracked from her throat, torn ragged by desperation, wrapped in aching joy. her voice shook, as if daring the trees to take him from her again.
and then she was upon him, great body dropping low into the frost as if to shield him with her very bones. she did not touch him—not yet—but her breath shuddered inches from his fur.
my son—and now she reached, drawing him near.
my rain. i’ve found you.