The Heartwood Slowly tears you apart

sólhárr nodded to the tundra man, his gaze steady but marked by something unsaid, something turning in his mind like a stone polished smooth. farewell, kigipigak, he said simply, his voice calm as ever, but a flicker of something lingered behind his eyes. he watched as the man turned to leave, his pale form weaving back into the wilderness, and sólhárr let the quiet of the moment settle around him.

yet his thoughts churned.

kigipigak’s words, his tone, the mention of curses and of things unspeakable—it all sat uncomfortably within sólhárr’s chest. his elska, callyope—was she hiding something? had the moonwoman’s daughter carried some shadow of her family’s past into their future? he clenched his jaw, dismissing the idea as soon as it came, yet the seeds of doubt remained, small but persistent.

he shifted his weight, adjusting the burden of the butchered buck across his shoulders. this would be a gift to his people, a sign of his strength and care. yet he could not shake the questions left behind by the northman’s warning.

with a final breath, sólhárr turned toward home, the weight of the hunt matched only by the weight of his thoughts.