Whitewater Gorge wyrd bið ful āræd

@Cicero mayhaps?

the land rolls quiet beneath his paws; forest gives way to open brush and frost-bitten fields. the morning sky looking down upon the warrior as he goes. muscles sore from the last kill, ribs stiff from sleep against frozen earth.
@Qupirruarjuit sleeps where he left her. he wished to walk, now. he had not spoken of leaving. only rose, checked the wind, and walked. not far, not gone, just away. space makes the bond stronger or kills it outright.
his breath steams thick in the cold. birds scatter in the distance. he tastes blood in his mouth again, maybe from the open gash upon his snout from wolf's teeth, maybe from the cracked tooth he’d ignored too long.
þis is nāht! he says to the trees, feigning ignorance. scoffing then, when the wind rustles the branches and the fur upon his neck.
the gods and their foolish games they enjoyed to play.