Duskfire Glacier where the horned one sleeps

!!

satori.
his voice broke the stillness, low and firm, a quiet greeting carried on the breeze.
faust stood at the meadow’s edge, his dark silhouette stark against the thawing land. tension held him stiff, woven into his broad frame like a second skin. his gaze swept over her, sharp, assessing—the way she moved, the way she carried herself without the crutch she had once relied upon. stronger now. good.
but he did not soften.
the glacier had not given him the chance to breathe. not since winter, not since alliances and betrayals had tangled like roots beneath his feet, threatening to pull him under.
yet here she was. still tending to the land, still gathering, still herself.
he stepped forward, slow but deliberate, his green eyes flicking to the daisies she collected. how is the leg? his tone was gruff, edged with something unreadable. he had not asked before—not like this. not without an expectation behind it.