Duskfire Glacier unafraid

faust was there—swift, silent, relentless.
her glance found him already closing in, breath thick with frost, the thunder of the moose’s scream vibrating against his chest. they’d driven it just where they wanted, and its long limbs betrayed it; downed just enough to falter.
he didn’t strike yet. not fully. he saw the angle she took, the place her fangs had found, and he let her hold it a moment longer, testing her grit. his eyes flicked to the thrashing ears.
not yet, he seemed to say, circling opposite. they’d earned this chase together—he would not rob her of the win without seeing how far she’d press for it.
his breath steamed in the morning air, muscles coiled, waiting. he would follow her lead, for now. this was her strike to claim—or not. the game wasn’t over.