Duskfire Glacier сейчас самое время умереть

for @Blackfell !

the clock was ticking. soon, darukaal would march from their glacier to snuff the lives of saatsine. the soldier is ready—always ready for war. the anticipation sang in his veins. a thrum, a rush that would build and built until he would release. 

an explosion, ready to take the lives of whomever stood in his way. 

it made his teeth ache. an itch to hone himself, to prepare. and so his gruff howl would call to the other darukaal soldiers. demanding they come and prove their strength, to test their bite.

the warbringer answers the call of his soldier, still warm and full of adrenaline from the spar with faust. blood hums beneath dark fur, muscles loose and primed from battle.
blackfell approaches iosef with a clipped bark, sharp; commanding. shoulders roll, sinew shifting beneath scarred pelt as he settles into stance.
eyes sharp, calculating—he sizes up his soldier, appraising strength and stance, looking for weakness. battle-hungry grin pulls at lips.
his onyx crown jerks sharply.
come. show your bite.