Duskfire Glacier and the boy becomes a man

@Faust

kaelith has traveled far and with no particular destination in mind, focused only on getting away. he is his mother's boy, and parting from her is as painful as ripping himself apart...but it is time. he knows it. and so with tearful goodbye he has gone, paws carrying him wherever wanderlust chooses to guide. mountains and grasslands alike he has seen, but none have called to him quite like the leaning ice of this one. there is something here for him, and he will stay until he finds it before moving on again.

he pauses, one forepaw raised, hackles bristling momentarily.

a scent, familiar, and a towering silhouette even moreso. kaelith stiffens, uncertain, but his tail betrays him with bountiful wags from side to side.

"hello, brother."

the air is sharp, laced with the cold bite of ice and the weight of his ever-growing responsibilities. faust does not expect company, not here, not now—so when he first lays eyes on the ragged shape slinking through the glacier’s expanse, his reaction is immediate. a snarl rips from his throat, his hackles rising like storm clouds ready to break.
but then—recognition.
he stops short, ears twitching, green eyes narrowing as the shape becomes clearer, more defined. lean, worn, but familiar.
kaelith.
the name leaves his lips like an afterthought, a ghost of a past not yet buried. his tail lowers but does not fall completely, body still holding the tension of a leader unaccustomed to surprise.
what are you doing here?
there is no hostility, not now—just a quiet curiosity, edged with something that might be relief. but faust does not yet soften. kaelith is blood, but blood alone does not grant sanctuary in darukaal. not anymore.

"i've left winterhelm for good. can't say for how long i've wandered, but i certainly didn't expect my feet to carry me here." he speaks with a wistful cadence, syllables soft and rolling. as if he is the same daydreaming boy faust once knew.

but he is taller now, broader, muscle rippling subtly beneath his sleek coat. he has not quite grown into himself, but he has begun.

"is this your home? you smell of others."

of men and of women alike. does he lead an army here? kaelith sorely hopes not. he left the bloodshed behind with winterhelm.

faust watches the boy—no, the man—he’s become. broader now, sharper in frame, though the same old wistfulness lingers in his voice. kaelith has always been different from them, softer in ways the north does not often forgive.
his expression remains unreadable, but there is something behind his eyes, a distant warmth buried beneath the weight of responsibility.
aye. his voice is steady, grave. this is darukaal. i am its kaan.
he does not know what kaelith seeks here, if it is refuge or simply curiosity, but he will not turn him away. blood is blood, and kaelith is still his kin. you have wandered far. a pause, then— what do you seek?

"kaan of darukaal." he mirrors the words, a proud grin tugging at the corners of his lips. faust had always been meant for more than winterhelm could offer him. leadership flowed through his veins, strengthened the resolve of those around him. kaelith felt it, too. he had never been brave, but standing beside him...he'd feared the world a little less.

"my brother, leading a pack all his own. your people are lucky to have you."

"i seek refuge, if you will have me. i may not be your strongest warrior, but i can hunt and i can strategize." not that faust had need for strategy. he had a mind of his own, and the strength to back it up.

faust’s chuckle was a low rumble, a sound of amusement, of welcome. kaelith had always been the slinkier of them, all sharp wit and quick feet, built for slipping through the cracks where others crashed through walls. but there was a place for that, too. a use.
we will make a man out of you yet, he mused, stepping forward, pressing his muzzle to his brother’s crown for the briefest moment. you are welcome here.
he pulled back, eyes sharp, weighing the words kaelith offered him. darukaal is not a place for idlers, he warned, though his voice lacked any real severity. we do not just survive here. we thrive.
his gaze flickered over kaelith’s frame, lean but capable. he had always been clever—perhaps not a warrior, but war was not only fought with tooth and claw. strategy has its place among us. hunting, too. you will earn your keep, as all do.
a pause, and then, but you are my kin. my blood. that matters here.
he turned then, flicking his tail, a silent invitation to follow. come. let’s get you settled.