Neverwinter Forest [PH] torruk

sólhárr stood poised atop the rise, amber-blue eyes scanning the thickets below. the herd had moved since morning—he could feel it in the earth, smell it on the wind—but one bull lingered. old. heavy. a king past his prime, but no less dangerous.

pangur arrived first, her energy crackling like lightning in a bottle. her joy was contagious, and for a moment he allowed a brief grin to tug at the edge of his mouth. she was born to run, he thought.

then came lūhtar, his steady heat and muscle grounding the moment like a stone. sólhárr dipped his head to both in greeting.

this is good, he murmured, his voice the low rasp of snow breaking beneath a paw. we are swift. we are strong.

he turned toward the trees where the herd had vanished. the bull lingers west, near the ash break. his leg is stiff—he favors the right. but he is not without fight.

his gaze flicked between them. we flank. pangur, take the left. cut him if he veers. luhtar, run with me on the right. we drive him into the narrow ravine—trap him in the frost.

his tone sharpened, the chieftain now full in form. no show of teeth until i give the word. we bring him down clean.