Duskfire Glacier the gods call your name

he smelled the blood before he saw her.
thick. hot. fresh. it rolled over the snow in ribbons, staining the wind with copper, a scent that did not belong here.
his paws carried him forward before thought, muscles coiling tight beneath his dark coat, a predator drawn to the scent of death. but this was not a kill.
this was something else.
someone else.
his green eyes burned through the trees, scanning the ground, following the drag of her struggle. she had come far. too far. how was she even still moving?
when he finally saw her, it was a ghost of the past come bleeding into the present.
familiar.
but wrong.
she was ruined. her throat a mangled mess, the blood still pumping. flowing. refusing to clot. her face pale, fur slicked dark, her steps faltering, her body failing her even as she fought.
a warrior, through and through.
but even warriors fell.
his lips curled back, not in anger, not in cruelty—but in realization.
a howl for @Blackfell.
the name ripped from his throat, sharp and urgent, carrying into the trees, demanding his cousin’s presence.
his pace quickened, closing the distance between them, and still, she did not fall.
stubborn. dying, and still fucking stubborn.
he came to her side, breath hot against the cold, stepping in close before she could collapse.