Ouroboros Spine mundr

Luhtar shifted his weight subtly, careful not to aggravate the healing wounds along his shoulder and flank. His sharp yellow eyes swept over Aiolos and Kukutux, catching the subtle exchanges of respect and warmth between them and Sólhárr. There was pride, warm, in Luhtar's chest.

When the burdens were finally unlashed and laid bare before the hearth, Luhtar exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The offerings—seal meat, fox pelts, and the dark-furred ram that had cost them so much—spoke to Forneskja’s determination and Sólhárr’s devotion. Yet Luhtar’s role here was not to speak but to stand as steadfast support.

Still, as the moonwoman returned with her healing paste and Sólhárr’s words turned toward ceremony, Luhtar let his gaze drift over the gathering.

When Kukutux beckoned them closer, Luhtar stepped forward with a faint wince he quickly masked. His broad paws crunched softly against the snow as he stopped beside Sólhárr, his posture steady and deferential. Though he stayed silent, his amber eyes lingered on the moonwoman, curious about the traditions she might offer for Sólhárr’s union.

As the crisp air settled around them, Luhtar finally rumbled, low and gruff, “Strong place. Strong kin.” He nodded his thick head in agreement.