Duskfire Glacier Wayward

sega huffs low, thoughtful, eyes moving once around the lake, the wind, the torn ice. no threat in him.

hm. a pause. not trouble.

he lifts his muzzle, gestures with a tilt of his head toward the treeline.

there carcass. old, but meat still good. we ate already.

a glance back to the male, steady.

you can take. if you want.