Duskfire Glacier tartok

blood rushes to his ears, hot and searing inside his veins. the pounding of his heart is strong and wild, mingling with harsh breaths and wilder snarls. startling the calf, to keep it moving forward. the thrill of the hunt is what drives him. his vision is tunneled; solely, keenly focused on his prey. the urge to pounce and crush it beneath his weight, to sink his teeth into flesh and tear was strong. but not stronger than the desire to witness faust.

a good soldier knows when to stall, when to obey. so when the calf slips, its hooves slick on the ice, he reigns himself back with control barely contained. a thread ready to snap; a bomb ready to explode. his breaths are heavy and labored, thick plumes of his exhaust unfurling from parted jaws. his tail lashes with energy and adrenaline he wishes to unleash. faust is quicker; honed, lethal. his baskaan's ferocity with welcomed with an appreciative growl as the man meets the calf with his jaws.

it's cry fills the air, cutting through the silence of the tundra. blood stains the snow crimson, and iosef wishes there was more. a pool of it to revel in. his muscles stay tensed, even after faust snaps the calf's neck. its limbs thrash against ice before it finally succumbs and lays still. "you hunt well, brother. it was an honor to witness." he rasps between pants.