Duskfire Glacier I am the cut that ends foes—

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he appeared beside her without a sound, the way only men like him could—cut from stone and shadow both. his chin dipped, resting just over her shoulder for a beat, a quiet press that spoke more than any word. a claiming gesture, if not gentle, then firm. his breath stirred her fur.
then the scent hit him too—faint, but sharp beneath the damp of melting snow. cougar.
he grunted, low and gravelled. a good pelt for your den, came the murmur, tone flat but tinged with approval. already his body was shifting, readying.
we kill it, he agreed simply. a shared thought. their path was chosen.