Duskfire Glacier tartok

faust rolled his shoulders, the heat of the hunt still simmering beneath his skin. the calf had been young, but it was a kill, a victory, a meal for the pack. and that was what mattered.
bigger, he echoed, a rough exhale through his nose. stronger.
his gaze flicked to iosef, sharp and approving as his second took hold of the ox’s frail limb. they moved in tandem, dragging the carcass back toward darukaal’s heart, where it would be divided among their own.
next time, we take down something worthy of a song. his voice was low, steady, but there was a promise in it. a challenge.
they would hunt again. they would kill again. and the ice would drink deep of their victories.