Larksong Grotto peace is attainable

we don't want soldiers.
his voice cut through the cold air, steady and low. faust did not flinch beneath the weight of skorpa’s rejection, nor did he bristle at ayovi’s disdain. he had expected it—welcomed it, even. there was no love between them, only the necessity of what had to be done.
healing, food, and... he let the words settle, measuring their weight before continuing, a safeguard. that darukaal will protect winsook borders when the pups are born.
his green eyes flickered to ayovi, meeting her cold stare without hesitation.
none of darukaal’s women are carrying. we have soldiers, so...he can be there.
why was he being so...nice? fucking satori. you are capable enough, skorpa, i know this.
the statement hung between them, neither offering nor demand, but something else entirely. something measured. something careful. but time with your family... it was unbeatable. if skorpa could have what faust could not, then at least offer him the pity of kicking rocks like a little boy at the edges with a sword at his side.
then, a pause. a flicker of something unguarded, rare in the kaan’s weathered features.
i do not want any child to fear the north. their home.
it was as close as he would ever come to admitting what he truly wanted—what he had always wanted. peace. for darukaal, for the glacier, for those who came after them.
but peace was a fragile thing. and he had learned long ago that it did not come without a price.