Dawnlark Plains you're a poem of mystery,

faust didn’t flinch at her hesitation. her silence didn’t bother him, nor did the faint tension in her frame as he leaned in closer. his nose brushed lightly against the pale fur of her forehead, settling where the faint starburst of her marking glimmered in the soft light.

star girl, he murmured, the name slipping from his lips like it had been waiting for this moment, drawn from the depths of his imagination to suit her perfectly. his gaze met hers as he pulled back, the sharp green of his eyes softened by a fleeting trace of approval.

faust, he answered plainly, the name weighted but unpretentious. it was a statement of fact, nothing more, but the way he held himself made it clear there was no room for anything less.

his gaze shifted northward, toward the towering peaks in the distance. my children, forged on summits. born where cold bites deepest, where only strong survive. his voice carried the weight of conviction, each word deliberate, spoken with the same purpose that drove his every step.

awarded with grass for winters they endure, he continued, his nose flaring slightly as he scented the air. they will know strength before breath.

his attention returned to her, lingering on the faint curiosity in her gaze. he noticed how her eyes flicked to him, seeking something more. if she wanted answers, he would give them, but only if she proved herself worthy of his time.