Duskfire Glacier Birds of a feather

faust watched her closely, his eyes narrowing with a quiet assessment as she spoke. there was strength in her, a raw edge that stirred something deep in his chest. this one had potential, but potential wasn’t enough to earn trust. she would have to prove it with more than words. the hunt would tell him what she was capable of, and if she faltered here, it would be the end of her.
he nodded at her assessment, a grunt of approval escaping his chest. you're right, he said simply, voice like gravel, low and steady. his eyes flicked to tikigâk, acknowledging the silent agreement between them.
he stepped forward, his body rippling with the strength of a seasoned hunter, muscles taut and ready. we follow, he added, his voice now carrying the weight of leadership. he would not tolerate failure—not when it could mean the life of his pack. lead.
his gaze remained fixed on the woman, the challenge still hanging in the air, thick with the tension of what was to come. she had the scent of something fierce about her, something that would either break or strengthen the pack. he had no time to waste, but there was something in the way she moved, the way she spoke, that made him think this hunt would prove worthwhile.