Duskfire Glacier vashkorr

the air was sharp with winter’s bite as faust padded through the frozen expanse, the weight of fresh-killed meat slung heavy between his jaws. duskfire glacier stretched vast and endless around him, its silence pressing, save for the crunch of snow beneath his paws.
when he reached the den—her den, the one he had carved from the earth with his own claws—he did not hesitate. he dropped the meat at her feet, the dull thud breaking the quiet.
eat, he ordered, voice rough with the cold. no room for argument. no room for refusal.
then, without waiting for acknowledgment, he turned, stalking a few paces away. he found a rock, sturdy and solid, one that would bear his claim, and lifted his leg. the steam rose in the frozen air as he marked it, as natural and thoughtless as breathing.

@Lousine