Dawnlark Plains you're a poem of mystery,

faust stood still, the weight of her words settling around him like fresh snow. the name she offered—taaqtuq angut—rolled through his mind. he didn’t ask for its meaning, yet he nodded as though he already understood. his gaze lingered on her for a beat, considering.

i am chief, he confirmed simply, the words low, measured, carrying their own gravity. she could shift it, only if she had reigned him in further. faust was not a man of pleasantries, just of mere pleasure. 

he shifted his stance, the sharp lines of his frame cutting against the winter's pallor. do i scare you, star girl? his voice lacked its usual sharpness, the question posed with a mix of curiosity and intrigue, his head tilting just slightly.

he had seen strength before, but hers intrigued him—quiet, steady, like the unyielding grip of ice on stone. she was no ordinary wolf. as her smile flickered at the edges of her lips, his own expression remained inscrutable.

you are right, he said after a pause, his tone deepening. i do seek to build. stronger than before. bigger than the mountains themselves. but to build… you need wolves who do not tremble in the cold.

his gaze narrowed faintly, studying her again as if the answer to his unspoken question lay in her steady composure. he thought of @Ayovi; how certainly rugged she'd been against the stones. forged in the plains, he'd assume of her, but of the mountains he could make her. just like the crested star girl. 

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