Silver Moraine multieyed raven

vahaelarr follows closely, silence worn like armor, yet his gaze is sharp—watchful, absorbing every word. the glacier rises cold and proud around them, a fortress of ancient ice, glittering like glass under the pale northern sun.
his breath comes slow, fogging the bitter air, and his eyes trace caribou trails etched in the snow, imagining hunts yet to come. it’s rough country. harsh. unforgiving.
perfect.
good, he murmurs, a faint approval coloring the edge of his voice. his shoulder bumps lightly against faust’s, a quiet affirmation.
ahead, the caves yawn dark, promising shelter, strength, secrecy. vahaelarr nods, a subtle tilt of his chin, expression fierce yet calm. towhee will enjoy it here. he says. he thinks. swallowing stiffly then. i try to do what is right by her. he looks to faust. she is young, and i foolishly got her pregnant. it felt like my duty to marry her. to stand by her.
but he wonders, often. what could have been. thoughts drifting briefly to @Rala. a marriage of love.