5/4/2025, 3:10 AM
the old wolf stepped from between the trees like shadow born flesh, his breath a low fog trailing from scar-scored lips. he bore the scent of old blood and fresh kill—moose, maybe, or something close to it. his jaws had not long since opened, and now they closed again, silent.
he had not expected company.
and yet, there she stood.
golden grass stirred at her ankles. snow clung like salt to her back. a hard wind slipped between them, but he did not flinch. geirmundr was weathered into this world, worn into shape by wind and war. he looked at her, steady as the mountain, pale eyes catching what little light was left.
no greeting. none needed.
just a narrowing of gaze, the faint flare of one ear. studying. testing.
he had not expected company.
and yet, there she stood.
golden grass stirred at her ankles. snow clung like salt to her back. a hard wind slipped between them, but he did not flinch. geirmundr was weathered into this world, worn into shape by wind and war. he looked at her, steady as the mountain, pale eyes catching what little light was left.
no greeting. none needed.
just a narrowing of gaze, the faint flare of one ear. studying. testing.