Noctisardor Bypass stone craft

uktark froze mid-stride, nose buried in the cold crust of snow as the scent hit him—
sharp, lean, dusted with hunger and distance…
but underneath, something older.
something from before.
darukaal’s shadowed halls, winter dens, the breath of wolves long gone.
his jaws clicked once, a quiet tic of recognition, and he dragged his tongue over the snow to taste what memory alone could not finish. yes. familiar. faint, but true.
he lifted his head.
the woman stood at the fringe of the bypass, thin as the hunger she carried, hare swinging from her jaws. the wind peeled her scent toward him again, confirming what instinct already knew.
uktark’s posture shifted—broad chest rising, chin lifting, tail stiff with the authority of a man who no longer bent to the past that shaped him. but his stare held something else beneath the frost: acknowledgement. a ghost of what once was.
he stepped forward, deliberate, snow whispering under the dense weight of him, breath steaming from his muzzle in slow ribbons.
darukaal, he rumbled—
not her name, but the truth of what he scented on her.
a word pulled from a life buried, but not forgotten.
his ears twitched forward as he studied her, gaze hard but not unwelcoming.
dione.