The Heartwood Slowly tears you apart

sólhárr dipped his head in silent acknowledgment, golden eyes briefly sweeping over the man who introduced himself as kigipigak. he seemed seasoned, his bearing unassuming yet confident. there was wisdom in his words, in his quiet acceptance of the offer. a man like him would fit well among forneskja’s ranks, sólhárr thought, though he kept such musings to himself for now.

without a word, sólhárr turned his focus to the forest. the crisp air carried the faint musk of a buck—large and likely formidable. a worthy challenge for the two of them. his nose lowered to the ground, and his paws moved with deliberate quiet as he began to track the scent. the trail was fresh, the sharp tang of it cutting through the earthy scents of the woodland.

he glanced back briefly to ensure kigipigak followed before his attention returned to the task. this would be no easy prey, but it was suited for men like them—men who thrived on the hunt and the thrill of conquest. his steps quickened, the scent growing stronger, and he felt the stir of anticipation in his chest. the buck was near.