Duskfire Glacier [m] Tshärr

Quēogånd, she hears him say. Bear. She turns her head to hide a smile. Conceals even more trembling when he kisses her lips, and the huntress falls away, putting distance from that strangeness there was between Skorpa and she.
He guides them further out along this eastern stretch where the sun pours down onto their coats, and Ayovi is grateful the language of the hunt is shared between them. Her name off his tongue commands attention. Grouse rolls thickly in the air here, but it is the second prospect which draws nose and eyes from the ivory. She ambles stealthily, gaze flicking back over shoulder to the northman. Rock fowl would ease their appetites for a day; but a larger kill would stake their week’s claim to the ridgeside.
Ayovi presses forward with ears cupped; a decision plainly made.