Silver Moraine kill

stay close, faust rumbled, voice low and sure as they moved, his steps carving deep lines into the snow. her shadow fell alongside his—big, dark, silent. he liked that. no needless words. just movement. purpose.
the wind shifted. he raised his nose, tasting the air. reindeer. ahead. a tilt of his head beckoned her forward, slow, careful, as they crested a rise where the ice broke open into rolling flats. the herd was there, small but strong. good meat.
he glanced sidelong to her as she drew near, noting the way she moved, the respectful drop of her head beside him. smart. respectful. his shoulder brushed hers as they prowled, quiet. she wasn’t a saatsine wolf, he could smell that much, but she had the makings of something worth keeping around.
i'll cut them from the left. force them downwind. his pale eyes slid to hers, sharp, testing. you take the flank. push them to the ice.
a pause, heavy with unspoken expectation.
we kill together, faust said, as if it was already decided. because to him, it was.
and without another word, he moved, a dark force cutting through the snow toward the herd.