Duskfire Glacier [m] Village song

faust was a shadow at her flank—long-legged and silent, his weight spread evenly across the terrain he knew as blood and bone. snow had melted to stone here, and he moved over it like the glacier itself had taught him. she led, and he let her, the scent of caribou still hot on the wind. a herd, likely. a small one, judging by the width of the trail, the sharpness of the scat.
his nose dipped once, confirming what tikigâk had already sensed. she was good. better than good. she was born to this. he could smell it in the way she tracked with certainty, not second-guessing, not blinking.
and so he followed.
they would drive the prey together.
his breath stayed measured, teeth clicking softly behind closed lips as he gauged the terrain ahead—a place of narrow slope and rock-wall, not ideal for a chase, but excellent for an ambush. he swept past her just once to glance up the ridge, then fell behind again. a silent signal. a different route.
you flush, i cut.
his pace quickened the moment her shoulder twitched. the caribou were close—he could feel it now, too. it would be bloody. it would be clean.
this was how darukaal fed. this was what made him kaan.