Duskfire Glacier and the boy becomes a man

faust’s chuckle was a low rumble, a sound of amusement, of welcome. kaelith had always been the slinkier of them, all sharp wit and quick feet, built for slipping through the cracks where others crashed through walls. but there was a place for that, too. a use.
we will make a man out of you yet, he mused, stepping forward, pressing his muzzle to his brother’s crown for the briefest moment. you are welcome here.
he pulled back, eyes sharp, weighing the words kaelith offered him. darukaal is not a place for idlers, he warned, though his voice lacked any real severity. we do not just survive here. we thrive.
his gaze flickered over kaelith’s frame, lean but capable. he had always been clever—perhaps not a warrior, but war was not only fought with tooth and claw. strategy has its place among us. hunting, too. you will earn your keep, as all do.
a pause, and then, but you are my kin. my blood. that matters here.
he turned then, flicking his tail, a silent invitation to follow. come. let’s get you settled.