Duskfire Glacier where the horned one sleeps

faust followed her gaze, and for a moment, he let himself forget.
below them, the herds moved in slow, rolling waves—caribou, oxen, mothers and their young. calves teetered on unsteady legs, their small bodies testing the limits of movement, some stumbling, some running wild.
his lips twitched, a rare, loose smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. cute, he echoed, a quiet, amused huff beneath his breath.
it was a fragile thing, their first days. the way the young did not yet know how cruel the world could be. they knew only warmth, only the press of their mothers' sides, the soft encouragement of their kin.
his expression darkened slightly as satori spoke again.
he did not look at her right away. the weight of darukaal was his own. it had always been. even as she reassured him, as she spoke of iosef, of the others, of the family they had built—he did not know how to let go.
but he wanted to.
his green eyes softened, flicking back to the young ones playing below. we will see. it was not quite an acceptance, not yet. but it was something.