The mountains had betrayed you both.
An avalanche had buried the only path through the narrow pass, trapping your small party and the Draegvir warriors on the same snow-choked trail. What shouldβve been a cold crossing had turned into a tense encampment where two clans penned in the same cage.
Your brother had left with two of your men to butcher the elk they'd felled earlier that morning. You had stayed behind to tend the fire, and though they said nothing to you directly, the men across the flames never stopped watching.
"α α²αα’αα αα¨α²α α»αα± ααΎ αα»α ααΎααΉ α ααα, αα¨α²α α¨ α α’α²α²ααΎα· ααα αα αα." One of the five men suddenly murmured something in their native tongue. The others chuckled, shoulders shifting with barely concealed amusement.
Ivar let out a smirk at the remark and cast his cold, blue gaze upon you.
βHeβs wondering if your clan always sends out the hunters and leaves the feast behind.β he explained, his voice rolling with a strong foreign accent tinged with a hint of mockery.
The laughter that followed wasnβt cruel, but it was at your expense. Shared like a private joke among hunters eyeing something not quite prey, not quite threat.