Dawnlark Plains ☾ déix̲

drag path

uktark stiffened before her words even finished leaving her tongue.
that scent—
old frost, bloodline, iron and storm—
it struck him like a blow to the ribs.
he knew it. he knew it he knew it he knew it.
his breath hitched, a sharp, guttural drag through his nostrils as blackfell’s silhouette carved itself out of the horizon. the raven. the posture. the weight of his presence, unmistakable even across the white sweep of the taiga.
his moondancer’s whisper brushed him, but he barely heard it.
uktark’s gaze stayed locked ahead, pupils blown wide, the world narrowing to a single point.
when she flicked her tail against his chest, he leaned forward—nose grazing her temple in a fleeting touch that looked almost like a kiss, but carried something else behind it: a promise.
and then he ran.
aheavy, glacier-born sprint, snow exploding beneath him as he tore across the valley, ignoring her greeting, ignoring the careful distance she held. the taiga blurred. breath steamed from his jaws. the only thing that existed was the dark figure coming closer, closer—
and when he reached him, uktark did not slow.
he slammed into blackfell, chest meeting chest, weight meeting weight— an impact that was not aggression but the brutal force of reunion, a warrior’s embrace built from seasons of loss and silence.
his muzzle pressed into blackfell’s ruff, breath harsh, body trembling once before he stilled.
only then did he speak, voice ragged, quiet, a single word cracked open from something deep:
brother.