Moonsong Glacier ram hunt

Luhtar stood at Sólhárr’s side, the cold biting into his muzzle as he drew a slow, steady breath. His broad frame was wrapped in the northern chill, thick fur doing its part to keep warmth close. He had been on many hunts before—he and Sólhárr both—but this one carried a weight that settled quietly on his shoulders like fresh snow.

The final piece to a puzzle. With the slay of this Ram, his leaders may yet finally be wed.

They moved forward.

Where Sólhárr led, Luhtar followed, their steps nearly soundless on the crust of ice and snow. Every muscle in Luhtar’s body coiled, ready for the explosive burst of speed that might be required at any moment.

He trusted Sólhárr’s judgment, his strength.

This would end here, in the heart of winter’s embrace, and they would return triumphant.