Noctisardor Bypass glistening shards

Subtlety, it seemed, was a dying art.
Astier halted, his paws resting light upon the frozen crust that the stranger was currently pulverizing. He watched the dark, hulking figure plough through the drifts with the grace of a landslide, a sharp, noisy contrast to the stillness of the valley. But it was the second scent that sharpened Astier’s focus; the acrid spike of terror drifting from the treeline.
His silver gaze flicked sideways, catching the silhouette of the female. She was braced like a doe scenting a wolf, trembling with a fear that made her look small, fragile, and entirely too much like prey. If the behemoth in the snow noticed her, the outcome was uncertain. If the behemoth noticed him, however, the equation became simple.
Astier shifted his weight, deliberately stepping out from the blending palette of the snow to make himself a stark, unavoidable focal point. He didn't bristle; he simply watched the stranger’s struggle with a flat, unblinking stare, his head tilting just a fraction to the side as he raised his voice to cut through the wind.
„Careful,” Astier called out, his tone dry and rasping, loud enough to ensure the Norseman’s heavy gaze landed on him and him alone. He gestured vaguely with his muzzle toward the mounds of snow the stranger was fighting against. „I was under the impression the bears had already gone to sleep for the season.”
He offered a thin, sharp look, not quite a smile, but the ghost of one. „Or did you wake up early just to ruin the silence?”