Duskfire Glacier I am the wrath that topples armies,

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— he does.
bloodkeeper does not shy from her, nor does he invite her further in. they circle in silence; he lets her scent him—evergreen, ash, the storm-laced spice of his wife, and the musk of a raven. and he takes her scent too: stormfang, faust, the iron of kill, the sharp salt of ambition.
his tail lifts, and quarters shift. “you’re circling,” he mutters, voice low. observant. “speak what you want of me.”
his gaze drops to the hare, then lifts back to hers.
“but be quick. i’ve a hungry woman waiting.” a pause. then, a twitch at the edge of his mouth.