Redtail Rise still miles to go till i arrive

faust emerged from the trees like a shadow pulled from the ice, his steps deliberate, his gaze sharp. the air was thick with the scent of blood and winter rot, the carcass laid bare before the lone man. scavenging, surviving. faust had done the same in leaner times.
he did not linger at the edge of the clearing, nor did he move to take what was not his. instead, he gruffed a low greeting, more acknowledgment than warmth, though it was not unkind.
eating well?
his tone was flat, unreadable, but his eyes held quiet assessment as they traced over the wolf before him—thin, but not broken. winter was a cruel mistress, and yet this one still stood. faust respected that much.