Duskfire Glacier demeter

faust settled beside her. he did not touch the kill, only watched as lousine bowed her head to it, whispered her quiet thanks. the ritual was foreign to him, but he respected it. she ate first. that was the way of things.
her question came casually, but it struck something cold and hard in him.
he shook his head. never knew him. the words were flat, dismissive. he glanced at her then, amber eyes sharp, but not unkind. bastard son. there was no shame in it, no bitterness—just fact. he had never known the man, never sought to. his mother had raised him, and that had been enough.
his gaze flicked to the horizon, watching the last remnants of daylight bleed into darkness. not sure i care to.