Duskfire Glacier suuya

faust listens, but his focus is elsewhere. he moves, slow and deliberate, toward a tree standing just at the glacier’s edge. with a lift of his leg, he marks it—his claim, his warning. the scent is sharp in the cold air, a declaration of intent.
i will claim this glacier.
his voice is steady, unwavering. the words leave no room for doubt. he turns back, golden eyes narrowing as they settle on the man. there is no arrogance in his tone, just certainty.
we are hunters, he continues, his head tilting slightly as if considering whether the stranger is worth his breath. big game.
the tundra was no place for weak men. only those who could fight, who could track, who could kill, would survive under his rule. he makes no effort to explain further—if the man had sense, he would understand.