Noctisardor Bypass stone craft

uktark stood over the fallen deer with the steam rising between them, the churned snow, the copper sting of blood thick in the air. dione’s howl cut sharp and bright across the bypass—he did not join it, but his tail lifted, slow, claiming, a silent banner of triumph.
her praise brushed against him like wind on stone. he accepted it with a low rumble, not denial, not pride—simply truth.
he stepped closer, shoulder grazing hers once.
yes.
a single word, but it carried weight. intent. future.
his gaze swept the ridgelines, the chokepoints, the cold never-melting rock that guarded the pass. a basin carved by ice and wind. harsh. defensible. a place only the strongest could hold.
this, he said, voice low as the winter earth beneath them, is mine to claim.
a beat—his eyes narrowed, something colder, older flickering behind them.
for grey fangs.