Noctisardor Bypass sinister mist

@Uktark, any other Grey Fangs welcome!

A few days of travel through the frozen land had led her east, following a trail that was now as distinct to her as the bite of the wind. The scent of the northman, heavy with the smell of old muscle and cold discipline, remained consistent, a steady pull across the desolate terrain. Ivana moved with a tireless, rhythmic stride, her large frame cutting through the deepening drifts until the horizon was suddenly blocked by a wall of stone.
A range of short, narrow mountains rose up to meet her, their jagged peaks completely white under a fresh layer of snow. She tracked the scent toward a massive crack in the mountain face that offered a passage through the stone. As she stepped through the opening, the roar of the north wind died down, muffled by the high, rocky walls that ringed the interior like a fortress.
Ivana stopped at the top of a rise, her dark coat a sharp, obsidian void against the blinding white valley. Her breath escaped in thick, grey plumes as she narrowed her pale eyes, scanning the clusters of trees and the shoreline of the lake. She was deep in the heart of the mountains now, and somewhere in this sheltered silence, the scent told her he was waiting. He still needed to prove himself.

uktark is already there.
he stands near the lake’s edge where stone cuts the wind, dark against the white the same way he always is. her scent reached him long before her steps did. unhurried. like she wanted to be seen.
he turns when she crests the rise, eyes settling on her without surprise. no greeting. no challenge. only acknowledgment.
you followed, he says, low.
his tail lifts once, controlled. not dominance.
this is the bypass, he continues, glancing once to the stone walls, the water, the trees that break the cold. you might grow to like it.

Ivana descended from the rise, her heavy paws breaking the frozen crust of the snow with a measured, rhythmic weight. Her pale eyes traced the jagged line of the mountains and the strategic value of the frozen lake. She was weighing the land's worth, judging it by the defense it provided rather than its beauty.
The valkyrie stopped a short distance from him, her dark coat standing out like a charcoal smudge against the white. She gave a single, sharp nod, a cold acknowledgement of his presence and the several days trail she had followed.
„Your claim?” she asked, her voice short and level, cutting through the mountain silence. The dark woman did not wait for him to offer a tour. She moved past him, her dark flank nearly brushing his as she headed deeper into the valley toward the scattered woodlands. Ivana paused only to look back over her shoulder, her pale eyes fixed on him with an unyielding, demanding gaze.
„Show me the rest,” she directed. It was an order. He had brought her to his gates; now he had to prove that the interior was worth her presence.

---

blackfell is on his way out of the territory when he comes across the dark-furred woman and his cousin. she is leading uktark down from a slope, into the valley and towards the treeline.

the blackbird emerges from said treeline, stalwart frame brushing against one of the trunks of high carving evergreen and the foliage which lingers, dead from frost. he huffs and shoulders up, moving through the thick winter.

he meets her first with questioning red eyes, but he does not look long. his thudding footfalls move him past and towards uktark, who he stops with a shoulder to his.

i am heading out. he rumbles. who is this?

---

uktark does not bristle when she passes him. he turns instead, falling into step beside her as if this had always been the direction.
my claim, he answers simply.
he gestures with his muzzle as they move. the stone walls first, sheer and narrow, the way sound dies between them. the lake after, frozen skin hiding depth. then the treeline, sparse but positioned where sightlines break and ambush favors the patient.
wind breaks here, he adds. enemies funnel there. nothing large moves without being seen.
when blackfell emerges, uktark stops. he turns, letting the two of them share a look before he speaks.
ivana, he says, naming her without flourish. this is blackfell, warden of the bypass.
a pause. something like approval flickers in his eyes.
she's stubborn, he adds, almost dry.
his gaze shifts briefly to blackfell, then back to her. you might like her.

happy new year y'all <3

Ivana stopped, her large frame as still as the stone walls behind her as another dark man approached. She watched him move through the snow, her pale eyes tracking his weight and the steady set of his shoulders. When Uktark spoke her name, she didn't turn to look at him, but she heard the dry note in his voice when he called her stubborn. It was an accurate assessment, and for a rare moment, the acknowledgment felt like a quiet victory.
Ivana turned her gaze to Blackfell when Uktark suggested the Warden might like her. She drew herself up to her full height, her dark tail held high and steady against the cold wind.
„Whether he likes me is his concern, not mine,” she said, her voice a low, level rasp. She met Blackfell’s red gaze directly, her stare steady and hard. She watched the way he and Uktark stood together, noting the lack of tension between their shoulders. It was a position of trust. The valkyrie acknowledged him as the second in command with a short, stiff nod, though her expression remained cold. Whether the Warden liked her was irrelevant; she was here for the strength of the valley, not his approval.
She looked back at Uktark, her ice-blue eyes sharp. „Continue,” she directed, signaling that the introduction was over and her inspection was not yet finished.

happy new year dan!!!

---

blackfell does not cut his eyes to the woman once during his interaction with his cousin. they are shoulder to shoulder, steel and shield. like always, it is difficult to draw the attention of the blackbird.

she does not until she speaks, those cynical words meeting his ears. his head turns slowly and he drops his stare upon her, still and quiet for several seconds.

before he laughs. a genuine laugh, one he hadn't mustered in several days. finally, a woman with a little backbone around here. she looks strong, she behaves strong. blackfell only huffs, shakes his head and gives uktark a final side eye.

good luck, brother.

then he is off.

---

he takes ivana’s command without comment, already moving as blackfell peels away. there is a brief glance after his cousin’s retreating form; a flicker of understanding shared; then his focus returns forward.
he laughs when he approves, uktark says at last, voice even. not explanation; fact.
he leads deeper into the valley, along stone corridors cut by old ice and older patrols. cliffs narrow. sightlines shorten. the land grows harder to take by force.
this is why i stay, he continues, gesturing with his muzzle to the choke points, the frozen lake, the treeline that breaks advance. fangs holds because it is difficult.

Ivana narrowed her eyes at Blackfell as he walked away, watching his heavy stride until he disappeared from view. When Uktark mentioned that the laughter meant approval, a small smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. The valkyrie did not respond to the comment, but she turned her attention back to the landscape with a more focused gaze.
She followed Uktark through the narrow stone corridors, her gaze focused on he steep mountain walls and the way the terrain created natural choke points. She noted the frozen lake and the trees that provided cover from the wind. It was a location that was difficult to enter and easy to defend.
Ivana stopped and stood with her head held high, her tail steady. The territory was secure and the wolves were strong so far. She had seen the strength of the mountains and the men who held them.
„It is enough,” she stated, her voice a low, level rasp. „I will stay.”