Noctisardor Bypass stone craft

uktark slipped into her wake without hesitation, the snow swallowing his footfalls as he settled into the familiar rhythm of following her lead. she carried the wind well—nose low, body sharp with purpose—and he matched her pace with the quiet certainty of a wolf who had hunted beside her before, and remembered every beat of it.
two cows, one already sagging under winter’s hand—uktark’s gaze flicked to the weaker one instantly. her choice was sound. efficient. he met dione’s look with a single, firm nod, the signal clean and absolute.
agreement.
readiness.
go.
his body angled to the flank, muscles coiling, already preparing to drive the deer exactly where she needed it.