Neverwinter Forest uxar

Luhtar stood panting, his broad chest heaving as he released his grip on the ox’s throat and stepped back, watching the beast collapse under Sólhárr’s final strike. The massive animal stilled, its breath a fleeting memory, and the snow beneath it painted crimson with the effort of their hunt.

The younger wolf’s yellow eyes flicked to Sólhárr, taking in the sight of the Hárkonungr standing victorious, blood staining his muzzle and a primal energy still radiating from his frame. Luhtar gave a slow nod, his gaze heavy with respect and acknowledgment.

“Well done,” he rumbled, his voice low but steady, carrying the weight of shared effort and success. His tail wagged faintly, though he was careful not to let his injuries show too much. The ache in his shoulder and the dull throb from the wounds on his flank were reminders of the price they had paid, but they were secondary to the triumph of the moment.

He padded closer, his movements slower now as the adrenaline began to fade, and cast a glance down at the ox. “Big beast,” he muttered, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good hunt. Forneskja will feast.”