Duskfire Glacier δ

“A pack, first.” Ayovi relents, her voice shattering this dream as the north wind tears fingers into their fur. She’d never known a man more expressive with his fires of sunset and oxen-blood and she felt she knew his mind at least a little.
“I fear you will hate it Skorpa,” and there is no way to ask what he knew of group mentality, or even who his family was; if they had been happy together at one point.
The cold bears down on them, as if it would drive them away to a place of warmth. Yet Ayovi lingers. She finds these blue mountains so beautiful, clear and diamond-bright with streams of just-melted ice. Far away from hot, rugged summers and the stretch of endless plains.
A silent farewell for this vision in cerulean, then she untangles from the bear, gathering haunches of caribou beneath her paws.