Moonsong Glacier kena

ulloriaq, he repeated, his face split into a grin at his son's description. boring, eh? i suppose all young men think of their fathers like that. i will not rush to prove him wrong.

boring? no. solemn; grave—of course. but arjun would never know the depths of his history, and their relationship was better for it.

you're from the north? he asked, though he was almost certain of it. her pelt and speech said as much.