Redtail Rise still miles to go till i arrive

faust stands firm, eyes cold as the glacier wind that cuts between them. the stranger watches him with a measured curiosity, but faust does not waver. does not flinch.
i am taking this land, he says, voice rough as the ice beneath his paws. the glacier, the hunting fields. it will belong to blood talon.
a pause, thick with meaning. he does not ask for permission. does not wait for a challenge. his claim is not one of diplomacy—it is a statement of fact.
we are big game hunters, he continues, lifting his head. his breath fogs between them. moose. caribou. oxen. the beasts that run through this tundra. we take them down, together.
his gaze sharpens. if you come, you have warm bed. full belly.
faust does not bother with flattery or persuasion. he speaks only truth. the glacier was vast, harsh, and unforgiving. only those with strength would thrive here. only those who knew how to work together would survive.
so, he breathes, shoulders rolling as he watches the man’s face for a reaction. good enough speech?