Duskfire Glacier where the horned one sleeps

faust hummed, a low, considering sound.
it might be wise.
ayovi had been difficult—prideful, guarded, sharp as the cliffs she ruled. but she might take to a woman better, especially one with satori’s patience. perhaps there was still a path to salvage this.
but could satori make the journey? his green eyes flicked over her, taking in the way she carried herself. stronger than before, but still healing.
but are you well enough to travel?
it was not spoken with doubt, but with something else—concern, calculation. he would not send her if she could not withstand it, not when winter still clawed at the land, not when the glacier had already taken so much from her.
his gaze darkened, narrowing slightly. you will not go alone.
his decision was final, settled.
i will bring… gifts.
something to soften the edges of this meeting. something to remind winsook that darukaal was not only a force of war, but one of strategy.
because faust would not kneel.
but he would bargain, if it meant avoiding bloodshed. for now.