Permafrost Hollows puuksraak

Nimbus let her words settle into the stillness between them, his gaze fixed on the horizon, but his thoughts turned inward. The weight of her agitation wasn’t lost on him, though he made no move to address it directly. Instead, he stood like the mountains, steady and weathered, his breath curling into the air in faint puffs.

His eyes shifted to her then, pale and discerning. He saw the tension in her frame, the conflict in her voice. She reminded him of younger days, of long shadows cast by shared hunts and the quiet pride of proving oneself. But life had worn on him differently, carving solitude into his bones.

You’ve got something to run to, he said after a moment, his words slow, deliberate. Something worth noticing. There was no bitterness in the statement, only an edge of reflection. It was an acknowledgment, not envy.

He didn’t look at her again, not immediately. Instead, he turned his focus to the distant sky, where the clouds rolled heavy and restless. Somewhere within him, the ache of an old loss stirred, but he buried it as deeply as the snow beneath his paws.

But I'll say that I did notice you finally spoke. Now I don't have to ramble bullshit about the wind.