5/1/2026, 5:33 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 moves along the spine of a low ridge with a careful step, drifting in a slow arc and cutting across higher ground where the air might carry better. it brings her the small things first—lichen, old meltwater, the faint iron-sour trace of something long dead. she lets them pass. waits.
eventually, the wind brings forth a newer thread, bright and untested. it cuts clean through the rest, sharp as struck flint and fresh as a daisy. gjalla stills, one forepaw suspended before it finds the ground, ears angling forward as the wind shifts again and fills her lungs.
her descent is measured, a careful unraveling from stone to slope, her body sliding between outcrops and sparse brush without sound. her path curves, kept to cover so that she might monitor the scent uninterrupted.
below, dry grass ripples. something moves within them—a streak of motion that, perhaps, does not yet know how loud it is.
her head lifts just enough to see over the crest of the swaying field, gaze narrowing beneath the shadow of her brow as the figure comes into shape between the shifting green and white—all limbs and momentum, color catching where the light finds her. a child of motion. of noise. gjalla’s lip pulls faintly at one corner.
