Duskfire Glacier uppsaluk

faust’s gaze flickered between them, taking their measure. akavir, dark and composed, carried the weight of something unspoken. silvertongue, on the other hand, made herself comfortable, stretching into the furs with an ease that suggested familiarity with places not her own. she was listening, even as she settled in, and faust did not miss it.
we are a new claim, he answered akavir first, voice even, unbothered. he did not expect outsiders to know of darukaal—not yet. but that would change.
eyes slid to silvertongue then, observing the way she fit herself into the space like she belonged there. a sharp contrast to the quiet, measured presence of her companion.
i would be open to trading with your kin, faust said at last, inclining his head slightly. there are fine hides here for bedding, herbs that my menders seek, however, are in the south. his tone did not suggest desperation, only practicality. a barter that might serve them both.
but it was late. he had spent enough nights among battle-hardened men to recognize when one was too weary to speak further. he would not press for details—not now.
but we can discuss on the morrow, he decided, shifting his weight back onto his haunches. and let you both rest.