Duskfire Glacier [m] Village song

faust did not hesitate. the moment her ear twitched, his body shifted like an arrow loosed.
he veered right, cutting hard into the panicked pulse of the herd. a blunt force of motion, snow and soil churned beneath his charge. ahead, the caribou spun wide, but the wounded one—yes, she had picked true—was already faltering, hooves slipping over half-frozen mud, staggering with the tremble of age or illness in its bones.
he pressed in, flanking the weakened beast with precision. together, they had boxed it in. tikigâk drove from behind, lean and exacting as a knife; faust held fast at the front, driving it further off course with a lunge of bared teeth, snapping close enough to clip fur.
a breath.
then he surged.
he struck with the weight of all darukaal’s winters, slamming into the caribou’s shoulder, driving it to stagger. as it fell to a knee, faust’s jaws closed on the thick of the neck, just above the collarbone. he didn’t crush—not yet—he only held, anchoring the beast as it kicked, buying time for tikigâk to meet him.
this kill belonged to both. his grip was firm, breath hard in his lungs, eyes already burning toward her approach.