Permafrost Hollows my brain is a time bomb

the wilds were different than when they’d left them — the atmosphere held tension, ripe for war with screams of joy from the hills over it. yet call him sentimental, he ends up back within this ice pit; frost biting at his fur, blowing one direction than the next. the chill less welcome than it once was, even though the dragon always ran warm.
he doesn’t know what calls him to this spot; or why exactly he felt  the urge to come back here now of all times. maybe it’s a six sense. maybe it’s that destiny bullshit everyone likes to yap about. but he leans down, sniffs a painted patch of blood staining the ground under his feet, and he follows that trail. the red gets sharper — the scent stronger. a low huff rumbles from his chest. kratos quickens his pace.
ahead he spots a mangled, matted form. less silver like he’d remembered, and more red, brown, broken. spiked fur bristles, and he limps faster, pulling his protesting hindleg with him with each galloped step until he reaches his mate’s side. he whips to a halt when near enough, leaning his head down and nosing his cheek feverishly — a few kisses added to clear the blood and dirt. zephyr.