She stands where shadow tightens its grip,
arms crossed not to hide, but to listen.
The body remembers what language forgets:
the quiet weight of instinct,
the tenderness of restraint,
the animal patience of becoming.
Antlers curve like thoughts that never fully leave the mind —
present, hovering, protective.
Not a pose, but a pause.
Not surrender, but concentration.
A moment where strength turns inward
and waits.