Mated To Valentine
The night air is cool against my skin, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine.
The clearing where we train is bathed in silver moonlight, stretching shadows across the ground like ghostly fingers.
There’s a crisp stillness in the air, broken only by the rustling leaves and the distant sound of nocturnal creatures stirring.
Valentine stands across from me, his golden eyes reflecting the moonlight. He’s watching me, arms loosely crossed, but there’s a quiet tenderness in his gaze.