4/25/2025, 8:35 PM
SNAGGING SKILL Healer 1/5
morwenna had finished tending to veksar, her paws still damp with the chill of the sea and the sharp scent of herbs clinging to her fur. she had left him tucked in the cradle of driftwood and stone, the tide whispering low at his side, and now her moonfire eyes swept the shoreline once more.
it was then she saw him — a figure risen from the surf as if spat out by the sea itself. large. pale. carved of bone and winter storms. he moved like a revenant, slow and heavy with the weight of waking. instinct stiffened her spine for half a breath, but curiosity, as always, was stronger.
there was something about him. something carved not by these soft shores, but by harsher realms. by the hard anvil of mountain and war. perhaps he was a man of her realm. perhaps not. but she would find out.
morwenna moved down the slope of the beach with the certainty of a queen meeting a would-be king. the gulls cried above, sharp as arrows. she made no effort to mask her approach; let him see her, let him weigh her presence against the ache of waking.
when she stood a few paces away, she drew herself to full height, the salt breeze catching in her heavy fur, and inclined her head—not a bow, but an acknowledgment.