Duskfire Glacier [m] diet mountain dew

faust emerged from the mouth of their shelter, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep as he followed the sound of her voice. his eyes flickered over the scene before him—meat, stripped and portioned neatly, arranged atop the lamb’s pelt like some ceremonial offering.
he lifted a brow, stepping closer, the scent of fresh kill filling his lungs.
what’s all this? his voice was gruff with sleep, but there was something else beneath it—curiosity, maybe even something like amusement. lousine, delicate little thing that she was, had gone out and hunted for him.
his gaze slid from the platter to her, sharp and assessing. she was proud of this, he could tell, the way she carried herself, the way her voice had lilted when she called for him.
he grunted, lowering his head to inspect the offering. didn’t think you had it in you. it wasn’t cruel, just blunt. honest. he nudged a piece of meat with his nose, testing. how long did this take you?