And break the frozen heart.

Standing atop the Glacier now, paws planted upon the plain of ice he'd studied time and time before, the temptation to cross was unbearable. Malachi danced his gaze from segment to segment, analyzing each in turn. Every fresh look brought a new tremor to his paws, and if not for the obvious danger of this new land, he'd have darted across long ago.

But instead he took another step forward, but no further, testing the solidity beneath his feet as he had done before. Solid, and unyielding to his weight. Perfect, by any account. In greater confidence the man shifted, and prepared to take another step. But as he planted his paw on the ice before him, he felt the prickling sensation of another's watch and he turned, eyes narrow against the line of pines and ears alert for signs of approach. The air was stale that day, but he didn't need the help of gales to pick out the earthen form of his observer from among the deeper greens of the forest flanking his back. A wolf of Duskfire - Manauia - standing close enough to suggest she'd been watching him for a while.

Malachi blinked, his posture neither welcoming nor refusing her company, but rather stuck in a momentary state of fleeting chagrin. How long had she been standing there, and how had he not noticed her before? A ripple of heat burned his cheeks, and he tried to cover up his senseless inattentiveness by slacking his shoulders and waving his tail in a casual hello, despite the discomforting gaze she held him in.