Duskfire Glacier [m]I hear it all, I hear it all in my head

faust’s figure broke the mist and cold like a blade drawn clean. thick-coated, scar-shadowed, his eyes scanned the scene without urgency—but there was a weight to his stare. he watched the stranger pinned beneath his mate, saw the bloodless defiance in her eyes and the submission that followed.
his body moved with controlled command. a flick of his tail—sharp, silent—sent blackfell circling closer, a warhound summoned forward with purpose. but faust’s first movement was toward tikigâk. his shoulder brushed hers, a subtle anchor, a steadying force. not a command, but a signal: he was here.
then his eyes found the woman on the ground.
…speak, he said, voice as cold as the glacier’s bones.
a long breath passed. he studied her—her posture, her tremble, the strange strength that still lingered beneath her surrender.
you hunter? healer?
the question was simple, but not idle.
meat. hides. skilled hands. if she had use, she might live.
if not—she would bleed.