The den Boulder led them to was carved deep into the mountain face—spacious, warm, surprisingly comfortable despite being hollowed from solid rock.
Someone had clearly prepared it in advance: a large nest of furs and soft grasses occupied one corner, a small fire pit sat in the center with stones arranged for sitting, and shelves carved into the walls held supplies—water, dried fruits, nuts, even a jar of honey.
"This is the honored guest den," Boulder explained, setting down a bundle of extra furs. "We don't use it often, but when we do, we make sure it's worthy of those who visit. You'll be safe here—no one will disturb you without permission."
He paused at the entrance, his massive frame blocking most of the fading daylight.
"Word of advice," he said quietly, glancing back toward where Amber's den would be, higher up the mountain. "The Saintess... she holds grudges. And she has influence with some of the younger warriors—males who likes her and are devoted to her. "
