Silvertip Mountain daybreak

the height gives arktos the illusion of stillness and idleness, that the territories that yawn out before him and fjall — as he names himself as — has frozen, awaiting their return. logically, arktos knows that is not true.

arktos, the warbear offers with a soft draw of breath, finding it not as satisfying as it usually is and pushes it out on another soft gust of wind; moss green gaze taking in the landscapes below once more.

up here, arktos has found clarity. i believe i have. he replies vaguely, a soft noise lingering in his throat. now i just have to share my revelations with my wife. because his decisions affected her too and she deserved a say as his other half.