Duskfire Glacier light guides nothing

the tundra stretched wide and open before her, a canvas of white and gray. she moved through it with a hunter’s grace—fluid, deliberate. she had not expected to find another lingering here, and yet the scent carried itself to her on the wind, crisp and unmistakable.

her eyes cut through the snowfall, dull gold catching on the shape crouched low in the drifts. a man, poised as if waiting for something to shift in his favor. jóra did not startle, nor did she announce herself with some meaningless pleasantry. instead, she prowled closer.

"stalking the beasts like a shade in the snow," she murmured, voice edged with amusement. her gaze flickered toward the oxen, their breaths rising in thick plumes. "they do not spook easily."