Duskfire Glacier Bathe yourself, in the light

faust is still a moment, a statue carved from glacier and bone. but the touch to his shoulder, the quiet truth of the boy’s voice— his brother’s voice— cracks something in the hard veneer he wears like armor.
kaelith pulls him close before he can speak. instinctively, faust's chest tightens—but he does not pull away.
he returns the embrace.
a slow, steady breath leaves him, and he rests his chin against the younger wolf’s shoulder, just for a beat. not long. not too much. but enough.
you are not foolish, he mutters, voice low, close to the boy’s ear. you are mine. blood of the north. of the gods, whether they speak to us or not.
he pulls back, but only slightly—just enough to look kaelith in the eye.
i will kill for you, he says, plain. promise. vow. one of many.
i will die beside you, if that’s what darukaal demands. but you’ll never be alone again.
a pause. then a rare, half-tilt of his mouth—almost a smile.