Duskfire Glacier [m] Village song

faust grunted.
not at her scent, not at the way she moved through the snow like a challenge dressed in ice and heat—but at the knowledge that she had chosen this place, these borders. him.
she rolled, fused herself to the land, and he watched. then passed her with a brush of his thick shoulder to her flank. not teasing—asserting. grounding her to the hunt they had begun before instinct bared its throat.
we feast, came his gravelled voice, deep and assured. the promise of meat, of bloodied snow, of caribou brought low beneath the crush of their jaws.
a pause, then: then fuck.
a demand as much as an inevitability.
he lowered his head to the tracks, scenting, and broke into a silent lope. their quarry was near. the cold had made them slow. heavy. ripe for taking.
his gaze did not drift from the trail—but the heat of her presence stirred at the edge of his awareness like fire licking just beyond reach.
soon.