The Heartwood Slowly tears you apart

sólhárr stilled at the shift in kigipigak’s demeanor, his brow furrowing as the tundran's voice turned cold and his features seemed carved from something harder than stone. the change was alarming, as though something heavy had draped itself over the man and taken root in his soul. he had thought kigipigak unshakable, but now... now, he was not so sure.

the words that forest is cursed hung in the air between them, chilling sólhárr more than the autumn breeze. he felt his stomach tighten, but he did not press; whatever haunted the man was not for him to dig out. instead, he dipped his head slightly, offering a quiet, measured, okay.

silence settled between them as sólhárr studied the tundran for a moment longer, concern flickering behind his oceanic gaze. the lake. what could the lake have done to break such a stoic figure?

he turned back to the buck, letting his paws move instinctively as he continued their work. but the curiosity gnawed at him, quiet and insistent. after a moment, he looked up, his voice softer but tinged with resolve.

what kind of curse? he asked, not pushing but still seeking, careful not to tread where he was unwelcome. the forest has held us well, but... i... would not raise my own cubkin there.