Duskfire Glacier not kids no more

AW

the morning air was sharp, crisp with the lingering touch of winter’s breath. faust exhaled, watching as his breath curled into the cool sky before vanishing like a specter. the lupine meadow stretched before him, its vibrant colors dulled by the season, but soon, the flowers would return, blooming in swaths of violet and indigo.
his pace was steady, albeit reckless. he moved with the assurance of a man who knew these lands intimately, the soil and stone beneath his paws as familiar as the scars that mapped his skin. at the meadow’s edge, he paused, rolling his shoulders to shake off the stiffness that had settled there.
this was routine—necessary. the edges of darukaal needed to be reinforced, a silent declaration to any wandering fools who might think to test the glacier wolves. faust lifted his leg, marking the border with a low chuff, his eyes sweeping across the land.
the air carried the scents of the wild—prey, damp earth, and something faint in the distance. a presence? his nostrils flared as he took it in, gaze narrowing slightly. perhaps it was nothing. perhaps it was something. either way, he would find out soon enough.
with a final shake of his thick pelt, he pressed forward, continuing his patrol, the weight of leadership settling like a familiar cloak across his shoulders.