Chimera Fields rannsókn

sólhárr emerged from the white horizon like a shadow cut from the stone of the mountain itself. his golden eyes bore down on the figure seated in the snow, sharp and assessing. the stranger’s ribs were a latticework beneath dark fur, his frame sunken and weak. a pathetic sight, perhaps, but sólhárr didn’t let his expression betray pity—only curiosity, edged with caution.

you got nerve, sólhárr said, his voice low and steady, the northern accent carving through the cold air like a blade. dragging yourself so far into the open, in this state.

his steps were measured, deliberate, as he closed the distance, stopping just out of reach. the scent of hunger and pain clung thickly to the loner, and sólhárr’s gaze flicked briefly to the weakened leg before returning to meet the man’s eyes.

who are you, and what brings you here? he asked, his tone clipped, offering neither aggression nor warmth. his posture remained strong, his stance unyielding but not overtly hostile. for now, he was simply a sentinel, guarding the outskirts of forneskja—and waiting for an answer.