Dawnlark Plains η

faust had been waiting.
tuhin’s words had lingered, whispered among the cold winds—rumblings of a nearby claim, a name he knew far too well. iskava. ayovi. a woman of rapt, and a man who had taken her.
a barbarian.
he knew enough of men like that. knew enough of what that could mean.
so when the call rose over the ice, he did not hesitate.
he did not answer—not in voice, at least. instead, he turned, already moving, already seeking.
@Iosef, his voice was steady, low, as he cast a glance to the man at his flank. he did not need to explain. they would go together.
the glacier stretched endlessly before them, wind howling in warning or welcome—he had yet to decide. faust did not rush, but he did not delay, either.
whoever called for him would not be left waiting long.