Duskfire Glacier unafraid

faust surged forward, the snow shifting in thick, heavy clumps beneath his weight. the moose had stumbled but not yet fallen—its legs dragged, trembling, but still defiant. dione had clung well, striking as clean as any seasoned hunter, but when she loosed her grip to lunge, he caught the miss in the corner of his eye.
he faltered then—not fully, not dangerously, but enough that his stride hit uneven snow and his shoulder dipped low with the effort of readjusting. a grunt sounded through his teeth, not from pain, but the annoyance of imperfect footing. it pulled his attention—his eyes cut to dione, quick and assessing.
she had not fallen far. the miss was nothing; she would recover, already surging after the quarry again. still, his gaze lingered for a heartbeat more, a brief flash of something unspoken flickering behind ice-toned eyes.
then he was after it again.
the moose had carved a desperate trail ahead, half-collapsing with each heavy step. faust pressed close to its flank now, aiming to cut it off fully—push it into the thicker snowdrifts ahead, force it down.
get the ear, he growled lowly, teeth bared. not a command, not even a challenge—just a shared thrill. he would hold the body.
the glory was hers.