Duskfire Glacier and the boy becomes a man

the air is sharp, laced with the cold bite of ice and the weight of his ever-growing responsibilities. faust does not expect company, not here, not now—so when he first lays eyes on the ragged shape slinking through the glacier’s expanse, his reaction is immediate. a snarl rips from his throat, his hackles rising like storm clouds ready to break.
but then—recognition.
he stops short, ears twitching, green eyes narrowing as the shape becomes clearer, more defined. lean, worn, but familiar.
kaelith.
the name leaves his lips like an afterthought, a ghost of a past not yet buried. his tail lowers but does not fall completely, body still holding the tension of a leader unaccustomed to surprise.
what are you doing here?
there is no hostility, not now—just a quiet curiosity, edged with something that might be relief. but faust does not yet soften. kaelith is blood, but blood alone does not grant sanctuary in darukaal. not anymore.