Duskfire Glacier I am the cut that ends foes—

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aust grunts as he watches her, his eyes narrowing with appreciation. the snow continued to fall, but it didn’t touch him as it did her. the way she moved, the way she worked—it was the same as everything else she did. purposeful. savage. unyielding.
when tikigâk finally presented him with the skull, her fur slick with blood, faust’s gaze flicks to the offering. his lip curls into a half-smile, though it’s brief, shadowed by the hunger that rises inside of him. he takes the skull from her, the weight of it in his mouth a reminder of the hunt, of their bond.
you never disappoint, he mutters, his voice rough, low like the growl in his chest.
his gaze flicks over her as she presses against him, his body instinctively responding, though his mind lingers on the work, the task at hand. yet the flicker of need in her eyes pulls him toward her, and he does not resist. the cold doesn’t matter here, not between them. the warmth she brings is enough to drown out everything else.
and he takes her as the full force of the kaan with paws straddling her hips. a ritual that would outlast him and these cubs that would soon be born. bloodied and hardened like their parents before. he has no need to be gentle with her. the plumes of anger rolling off of him with each joust of his hips. rewarded by the pleasures of her fattening belly.