Duskfire Glacier roakshore

fenris veered without question, falling in beside his brother. the trail was fresh—hoofprints half-buried in snow, the sharp tang of musk lingering in the frost. prey, close and moving.

his pace quickened, heart pounding with something fierce, something familiar. he had hunted beside faust as a boy, had matched his brother’s stride through forests and tundra alike. now they hunted again, men grown, teeth bared for the kill.

his breath curled thick against the cold. his crimson eyes flicked to faust, then back to the land stretching wide before them.

they would run it down. break it. take it.

this was their way.