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His stomach growled—but this time, it wasn't painful. It was a memory. Hunger remembered, not hunger active.
He looked toward the camp, still empty.
A quiet huff escaped his throat.
Then, without panic or noise, he walked toward the edge of the basin and sat—tail curled neatly around his feet, head raised to the sky.
He exhaled a single stream of flame, short and controlled, carving a clean spiral into the air.
Then waited.
Miles away, Zephyr paused. He felt… something. A ripple through his bond. Like a whisper of warmth tickling his collarbone.
He turned, narrowing his eyes toward the crater far behind them.
Fenna noticed. "What?"
"…Nothing. Just… he's awake."
Fenna smiled faintly. "Should we call him? Tell Star to come over?"
"I already gave him the command," Zephyr repeated, "When he feels my call, he'll find us. Just keep an ear open for wingbeats."
She raised a brow. "Think he'll listen?"
Zephyr exhaled with quiet certainty. "He will. He's Star."
A pause.
