Damien
the woods have remembered you
Damien let his eyes scan over the grain of the log before him, fingers brushing against the edge where the axe would bite. No softness, no hidden rot—just good, solid wood. He rolled his shoulders once, loosening them, and glanced up when Iskra’s question came.“That would be a good one,” he admitted, a half-smile ghosting at the corner of his mouth. “But I already asked for her to be my companion.” His chin tipped toward Aria, who had launched herself into another dash. Goose had her on the run this time, the husky sending her scrambling in his wake. Her ears flicked back, eyes wide, and she gave a startled chirrup that made Damien huff through his nose. “Still working on that quest. Think all I’ve got left is the bonding part now.”
At Iskra’s nod, Damien wrapped his hands around his axe, the familiar weight settling into his palms. He let the other man take the first strike, waited for the reverberation to fade through the log, then followed with his own swing. The rhythm came easily—one, then the other, wood splitting clean down its spine.
“I’d say,” he muttered at Iskra’s laugh, tone dry but not without humor. The mention of Torchline drew his brow tighter, though, and he studied Iskra a moment, head canted slightly. “What made you wanna trade sunshine and beaches for ice and snow?”
Behind them, Aria found her footing again. She veered sharply, cut low into the snow, and with a burst of energy managed to pounce high enough to tag Goose’s flank. Aria let out a shrill cub-growl, tail lashing like a banner. Damien’s ears caught the sound, but his focus stayed on the swing, the thud of the axe, and the steady, even measure of the work.
ever since the first time you got lost in them
