Duskfire Glacier northbound

he breathes deep, long enough that the cold wind fills his lungs and anchors him where he stands. it holds him still against the weight of her words, the weight of his own failures pressing heavy across his broad shoulders. there is no defense. no excuse that could make it right. only the truth, as bitter as it tastes on his tongue.
i had to go, faust says at last, voice low, as if admitting it aloud could change anything. as if it might soothe the wound he'd left behind in her chest, the one he'd felt in his own heart every damn day since.
stepfather was not kind on me when i matured. his jaw tightens, the memory of those long, harsh seasons flashing in his mind. the bruises. the commands. the quiet hatred that brewed in the dark corners of their home.
he exhales hard through his nose, turning his face away from the mountains, from the past that still clings like frost to his fur, and back to her. back to svalla. the only thing that ever made hrafn worth anything.
i would've taken you, his voice roughens, cracking at the edges like old ice. but i was just a boy. i couldn't fight him. not then. regret cuts deep, sharp and unrelenting. he carries it like a scar, unseen but always there. you deserved more.
watching her now, leaning into his touch like that, like maybe part of her still forgives him— gods, it nearly undoes him.
and yet, here she is. standing in front of him. unbroken. fierce as the day he left her behind. more than he deserves, and still she stays.
her threat earns the faintest hint of a grin, tired and crooked. you always did know how to keep me in line. his paw shifts to press against her shoulder, grounding, warm. i have already tried, no? the promise is quiet. but real. never again.
he glances toward the glacier, where darukaal waits, then back to her. come home with me. and this time, this time, he means it.