Noah
we follow our own steps
while our shadows keeps watching us
while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah’s chest felt heavy as he listened, the weight of her words settling like stones in a riverbed. The echo of wings and roars still lingered in his mind—their griffin and dragon forms clashing. He could still feel the sting of her talons raking across his feathers, the flash of teeth too close, the cold plunge into air and chaos. It wasn’t anger that burned in him now, but sadness. Sadness that it had been his friend, that violence had been the only language between them in that moment. That there was now a chasm between them.
Her hand brushed against his arm, awkward, tentative, but real. Different than when they sat at the river’s edge together, his grief filling the space between them. His glacier eyes held hers, though her gaze was fogged. “No,” he said quietly, “You didn’t hurt me.” Not in the way she feared. What hurt was the memory of them locked in a battle neither of them had truly wanted.
Noah drew in a slow breath, steadying himself as his palms pressed into the cold marble beneath him. He had wanted to protect her. But now, looking at her trembling frame, he knew pressing her further would only deepen her wounds. She wanted to go home. Needed it. He understood that more than anything.
“If you’re ready, I’ll take you to the Skyport.” He said, offering it wondering, knowing, she wasn’t strong enough yet to shift and take black wings to the Greatwood. He wished Liam were here, to steady her in ways Noah could not. But he would do his best to make sure she was able to get to him.
Because sadness or not, Noah had learned: sometimes the truest act of friendship was letting go.
Her hand brushed against his arm, awkward, tentative, but real. Different than when they sat at the river’s edge together, his grief filling the space between them. His glacier eyes held hers, though her gaze was fogged. “No,” he said quietly, “You didn’t hurt me.” Not in the way she feared. What hurt was the memory of them locked in a battle neither of them had truly wanted.
Noah drew in a slow breath, steadying himself as his palms pressed into the cold marble beneath him. He had wanted to protect her. But now, looking at her trembling frame, he knew pressing her further would only deepen her wounds. She wanted to go home. Needed it. He understood that more than anything.
“If you’re ready, I’ll take you to the Skyport.” He said, offering it wondering, knowing, she wasn’t strong enough yet to shift and take black wings to the Greatwood. He wished Liam were here, to steady her in ways Noah could not. But he would do his best to make sure she was able to get to him.
Because sadness or not, Noah had learned: sometimes the truest act of friendship was letting go.
the wrong steps
would be not to start this exodus.
would be not to start this exodus.
