Frostfire Ridge Carrying the load, with wings that feel like stone

good to fade?

Siarut peered into the eyes of his closest brother, trying to find deceit in his gaze. Finding none, the large man slowly nodded, his green eyes still locked on his brothers own. He gave no smile, as Tomkin would need to earn his respect one more. No the man was still on thin ice, and Siarut would make sure he carried his weight. Turning slowly, he ventured back toward the ice caves, wanting to collect his thoughts.

"I'm glad to hear it," Once fully away from the younger boy, "brother." Siarut threw the title over his shoulder. Despite his chilly exterior the pale patriarch was glad his brother had returned. Perhaps this time he would stay.