Firefly Glen morgunsól

sólhárr stood over the lifeless badger, his bloodied cheek a stark contrast to the frost that painted the ground. the metallic scent of the kill mingled with his own, sharp in the cold air.

at her approach, his single golden eye shifted to the woman, her small frame cautious but curious. his brow raised, the faintest flicker of intrigue crossing his features. he did not answer immediately, taking her measure with a sweeping glance.

fine, he muttered in broken common, his voice low and rough. the word carried no warmth, merely fact. then his head tilted slightly, the question hanging heavier than his tone. alone?