Theea
sometimes we gotta risk
it all to chase a dream
it all to chase a dream
I nod when Damien speaks and fall in behind him, matching my steps to his quiet, trusting the way he folds us into the land. If I do my part—soft feet, shallow breath—he’ll keep us unseen. When he offers the jerky without a word, I take it with a brief, grateful smirk and chew slowly, the salt and toughness grounding me more than I expect.
We pause, and his shoulder brushes mine—just enough to feel, just enough to keep. I glance up at him; the touch is a small harbor against the cold, a heat that steadies rather than startles. We move again, and when his gaze finds me, I let a pared-down smile show and then look away before the familiar warmth can flood my cheeks. It’s the way he sees me—really sees—that always threatens to undo my composure.
Below us, the leopard is a silver current in a pale river, powerful even in its restlessness. I find myself admiring the clean geometry of its movement, the way moonlight sketches muscle under winter fur. Grief clings to it like frost, but it moves anyway.
The pattern resolves itself a few minutes later. East. I lean closer, breath softer than a cloud. "He’s angling for the mountains behind the Citadel," I whisper, meeting Damien’s dark eyes for one too-close heartbeat. Very close. My pulse stutters; I ease back, eyes returning to the cat as it prowls the ridges as if testing the edges of a new map.
Searching for a place that will take him. I know that feeling, hunting for a place to belong. It sits in my chest like something familiar and heavy. If all we do tonight is follow and make sure he reaches whatever’s next without more blood, that feels right. Escort the wild where it needs to go, and keep moving.
We pause, and his shoulder brushes mine—just enough to feel, just enough to keep. I glance up at him; the touch is a small harbor against the cold, a heat that steadies rather than startles. We move again, and when his gaze finds me, I let a pared-down smile show and then look away before the familiar warmth can flood my cheeks. It’s the way he sees me—really sees—that always threatens to undo my composure.
Below us, the leopard is a silver current in a pale river, powerful even in its restlessness. I find myself admiring the clean geometry of its movement, the way moonlight sketches muscle under winter fur. Grief clings to it like frost, but it moves anyway.
The pattern resolves itself a few minutes later. East. I lean closer, breath softer than a cloud. "He’s angling for the mountains behind the Citadel," I whisper, meeting Damien’s dark eyes for one too-close heartbeat. Very close. My pulse stutters; I ease back, eyes returning to the cat as it prowls the ridges as if testing the edges of a new map.
Searching for a place that will take him. I know that feeling, hunting for a place to belong. It sits in my chest like something familiar and heavy. If all we do tonight is follow and make sure he reaches whatever’s next without more blood, that feels right. Escort the wild where it needs to go, and keep moving.
if we dive in headfirst,
all or nothing kinda thing
all or nothing kinda thing
