Moonsong Glacier ram hunt

the frost bit sharper today, the wind slicing through the air like a blade. sólhárr stood at the edge of the glacier, his breath clouding in the biting cold as he gazed across the expanse of white. the mountains loomed tall and unforgiving, their frozen edges glinting like jagged teeth under the pale sun. his body was a silhouette of dark strength against the endless stretch of snow.

beside him stood @Luhtar, a wolf as weathered and calloused by the ice as sólhárr himself. there was no other he trusted for this task, no other who could match his steps on the frost-hardened ground. together they were a force of nature, a pair of hunters forged by the unrelenting cold of the north.

today, sólhárr said, his voice low and steady, we finish this. his amber eyes burned with determination, scanning the horizon for the beast they sought. the black ram was no ordinary quarry—its pelt as dark as a starless night, its horns curling in fierce defiance of the world. it was the final piece of his bride price, the culmination of weeks of tireless pursuit.

his gaze flicked to luhtar, a brief nod of acknowledgment passing between them. sólhárr flexed his paws against the icy ground, feeling the strength in his calloused pads. the air was electric, charged with the weight of their task.

ahead, beyond the veil of snow, a faint movement caught his eye. the ram. it stood in a clearing, a shadow against the whiteness, its breath steaming in the cold. sólhárr’s pulse quickened, but his focus remained sharp. this was no ordinary hunt; it was a trial of endurance, strength, and cunning.

we move, he said quietly, his voice a rumble in the stillness. without another word, sólhárr stepped forward, his movements deliberate and silent, every sense attuned to the challenge that lay ahead. the final hunt had begun.