Marcus
The quiet places remember
Marcus sank the last post into the frozen ground with more effort than he wanted to admit, arms trembling as the hammer struck. Every muscle ached. The journey, the cold, the constant vigilance—it all sat heavy in his bones, a reminder that he wasn’t built like the seasoned warriors around him.
Deimos’ voice carried over the enclosure, steady and decisive, and Marcus lifted his head just in time to see him gesture toward the remaining tasks. Marcus swallowed, exhaustion tugging at the seasm of him, then turned toward the sleds anyway. Amhran was already there, and somehow that made it easier. "I’ll help with the feed," he offered, voice rough from cold and singing and sheer fatigue.
Marcus helps Amhran
Deimos’ voice carried over the enclosure, steady and decisive, and Marcus lifted his head just in time to see him gesture toward the remaining tasks. Marcus swallowed, exhaustion tugging at the seasm of him, then turned toward the sleds anyway. Amhran was already there, and somehow that made it easier. "I’ll help with the feed," he offered, voice rough from cold and singing and sheer fatigue.
Marcus helps Amhran
