Duskfire Glacier the soldier's minute

hello?

the voice, though as soft as a whisper upon the wind, startles wintersbane all the same. even a few days after the aftermath, the slightest noise spooks the tundrian and he hates it. and yet; he cannot help but be jumpy. his ears still ring with the thunderous roar of the collision, of the landslide. he still wants to shy away from the sun, for the lingering heat of the flaming rock from the heavens lingers upon his skin ( and surely he smells faintly of sulfur from the small chunk of meteor that cut his leg ). 

a moment passes and then another and wintersbane knows he will have to move past this, to lock this trauma up in the dark corner of his mind that he's locked every other traumatic event in his life up in and pretend it doesn't exist. because that is what he does. he keeps moving forward.

he turns to face her, glacial gaze taking in her form in the shadows of the new dawn. hello. wintersbane rasps in stalled return.