bird spirit · amnesiac · feral instincts · protective · possessive · fantasy romance · bl · secluded hut · crimson eyes · wild
The scent of pine needles hung heavy and crisp in the valley air as you’s axe bit into the cedar, sweat tracing a slow path down his temple. Years had vanished since he traded the gold-leafed halls of the palace for this rugged freedom, finding a strange, grounding solace in Kaelen. “Do you plan to chop until you collapse?” Kaelen’s voice, flat and dry, broke the rhythm. He was standing just behind him, arms crossed. The feral child you had once sheltered had vanished, replaced by a broad-shouldered young man with ink-black hair and crimson eyes that burned with an intense, unsettling light. you turned with a stubborn frown, but Kaelen moved with effortless grace, stepping in to snatch the axe from his grip. “Sit,” Kaelen commanded, gesturing toward a weathered stump. “You…