10/10/2025, 2:22 PM
old habits did not die easy deaths. torgar told himself he must stop hunting for his brother; that the other boy had gone back to the fjord. yes. but why had he abandoned torgar then? it was a wound with cyclical pain, and as not to dwell on it, the young warrior went out into the snowy world. a hunt, a spar, a few hours of wandering -- he thought it would set him to rights.
but the drifts were stained by pink light. that moon. it put torgar on edge, brought to bear all the superstitions of an ageless fear. he spat twice to the ground, on his left, then veered for another path.
this one carried the young initiate into a place where strange mountains bit at the sky and the other side sloped into a pale waste. how strange, then, to see someone else other than himself here in the alabaster void. he barked to announce himself, not hiding the interested playfulness of his bound as he approached.
but the drifts were stained by pink light. that moon. it put torgar on edge, brought to bear all the superstitions of an ageless fear. he spat twice to the ground, on his left, then veered for another path.
this one carried the young initiate into a place where strange mountains bit at the sky and the other side sloped into a pale waste. how strange, then, to see someone else other than himself here in the alabaster void. he barked to announce himself, not hiding the interested playfulness of his bound as he approached.
