Duskfire Glacier [m] may stars align

many days wintersbane feels like he's lived the lifetime of four different wolves — these past four years have been long and trying and unkind to him. he is built for tragedy, though. he is arturo's son; after all and that came with the burden of bearing the 'fearghal' name ( even in part ). i'd like that. wintersbane admits; a tremor in his raspy whisper. he was, he felt, about due for some good shared life experiences.

wintersbane draws in a slow breath; feeling it catch in the strong column of his throat as she reaches out to brush her muzzle against his scars. her touch is cool but gentle; and wintersbane closes his eyes as he revels in her touch as she maps out his history laid out upon his flesh. each scar adding a story to his saga of tragedy ...and of survival.

tzila — he does not mind the touch, nor her curiosity. but his skin feels hot beneath his feverkissed coat and he desires her with a fierce ache that with each brush of her muzzle against a scar upon his flesh becomes more insistent.