Duskfire Glacier mark how the tempest roars

forwarded a few days after wintersbane's death.

the evening was overcast; dull streaks of grey of heavy, pressing clouds with a rumbling storm on the horizon that matches his mood. even the threat of rainfall did not drive arius from the borders; walking patrols — the same patrols his father once made — until his pawpads cracked and bled. it was easy to make sense of: protect the pack from any threat and bury deep the anger at his father, warring as it was with the sorrow that grips him.

he focuses on each breath as it lingers and leaves his lungs, on the pain in his paws ...on the biting chill of the rock and the ice underfoot and as he approached the border where the glacier bled into the frostfire ridge, arius stops and casts his gaze upon his kingdom.

he was a duskfire after all, and wintersbane built this legacy for him and his siblings.