Duskfire Glacier Wayward

the glacier wind cuts clean and sharp as sega moves along its edge, paws finding sure footing where ice meets stone. the lake lies ahead, pale and still, but something pulls his attention before sight ever does.

scent.

fresh enough. warm-blooded. clumsy, even. not hiding.

he slows, head lowering as he reads it in the snow and air, a low huff leaving his chest. wanderer, he thinks. hungry. tired. not a threat.

the sound comes next. ice cracking. effort. a voice, rough with frustration.

sega steps into view at a distance, broad shape breaking the white. he does not rush. does not posture.

lake fight back today? he calls out, tone even, almost dry. ice here stubborn.

gold eyes settle on the stranger.

you alone?