Duskfire Glacier limitations

faust braces, meeting her lunge with a swift, steady pivot. her weight crashes into his side, but he digs his paws in, letting the ice work in his favor. he lets her push him just enough before shifting his balance, twisting away.
it’s good. she’s good.
his breath puffs in the cold air as he straightens, rolling a sore shoulder. then, with little ceremony, he spits onto the frozen ground between them, the taste of iron lingering.
good job, he rumbles, giving her a single nod of approval. not too much, not too little—just enough. then, without another word, he turns, shaking out his thick pelt before striding off.