3/15/2026, 5:02 AM
![[Image: de30rbh-3b0683a6-441b-43e3-821f-97de2c91...kDaKDynxTk]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/9de0281f-9de0-407a-a8c3-cff68eced06b/de30rbh-3b0683a6-441b-43e3-821f-97de2c917037.gif?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiIvZi85ZGUwMjgxZi05ZGUwLTQwN2EtYThjMy1jZmY2OGVjZWQwNmIvZGUzMHJiaC0zYjA2ODNhNi00NDFiLTQzZTMtODIxZi05N2RlMmM5MTcwMzcuZ2lmIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.X3AR7ztue9yyAPqjXnKt7hzjl9ocfI1zPkDaKDynxTk)
gjalla does not hesitate once the decision is made. the bank gives way beneath her paws as she descends the last few steps, stones slick with frost and meltwater. the river roars loud enough to swallow thought—loud enough that for a moment, she almost believes the cold will do what prayer and distance had not.
the shock of the water is immediate—ice biting into muscle and bone, a thousand needles driven through overheated flesh. it steals the air from her lungs and drives a harsh breath from her throat as the current surges around her chest. the river runs fast here, fed by snowmelt from the hills, and it claws greedily at her legs as if it might drag her downstream with it.
her mane darkens, slicking against her neck as the current presses against her ribs. for a few long seconds she simply stands there, eyes closed, jaw tight against the sting of cold.
when she opens them again, seutonius is already there—rising from the water like some stubborn relic of a war she has not quite finished fighting. his question reaches her through the rush of water, and gjalla's breath leaves her in a faint cloud as she goes to answer:
no.
the cold has chased the fever from her skin but not from her blood. if anything, the contrast has sharpened it—made her too aware of every movement, every sound, every shift of his body in the water beside her.
the current nudges her sideways until they stand almost shoulder to shoulder, the river tugging insistently at both their legs. droplets slide from the dark fall of her fur as she lifts her head, studying him with the same intensity she once used to read battlefields. this one is far smaller and yet far more dangerous.
her gaze drifts briefly to the line of his shoulders beneath the wet coat, then up again to return to his. something there burns that the water cannot touch.
is yours?
