Duskfire Glacier cut open my sternum and pull my little ribs around you

wintersbane wakes before the sun rises — customary to him always, but renewed with the expecting mothers. he walks the borders in the witching hours, strengthening the scent markings while it's still cool and the sun has yet to rise. when it begins to crest the horizon, casting a spill of golden buttery rays upon the land, he seeks out the herds in neighboring territories; making mental notes of their grazing patterns and where they appear to favor nesting for the night. thus far, they appear to favor qeya river — which brings with it no real surprise.

he catches what he can by himself and adds it to the caches in a regaled effort to stock up though prey is plentiful.

he lingers in the beginning of the glacier melt where it feeds into the qeya river and takes a deep drink, cleaning himself of the blood of his recent kill, freshly buried in the nearest cache.