Duskfire Glacier unafraid

faust kept low, steady, the frost-brittle grass whispering beneath his paws as he tracked alongside her. his breath curled slow in the morning air, eyes locked on the moose ahead—a lone cow, ribs just beginning to show from the long winter. she would feed many, if brought down.
dione surged first, and faust followed suit, the powerful tension of his limbs unwinding with each stride. they moved like shadow and echo—two halves of the same strike.
flank her! he barked low, sharp, trusting her instinct. his own path veered wide to drive the cow’s path, hoping to angle her toward a patch of uneven snow and thin brush. if she stumbled even slightly, they’d have her.
a snarl rose in his throat—not meant for her, but for the chase, for the moment, for the way his pulse thundered. his eyes flicked once to dione.
ear or crown, you’d better make it count.
the challenge was real, but so was the fire behind it.