They had collected quite the following already, it seemed. The duo had been joined by two other tall, beastly wolves, a slim-figured female, as well as a wayward child. Anuniaq had been around them enough to become acquainted and familiar with their names, however that was the extent. He disregarded their presence mostly, in favour of scouting out the lands that he had once called home. He had never been this far southwest when he was a cub, though, and took the time to familiarise himself with the territory here.
Breaking from the small group, the boy headed towards a lake that had begun to freeze at the edges, the grass surrounding it frost-ridden. The afternoon sun set the entire area in a cool shade of blue while the sky turned into a canvas of pale pinks and purples. Not that Anuniaq really paid attention to that. Instead, he ungracefully tested the frigid waters, dunking a foreleg in before leaning forward and lapping at the waters. It was freezing, however it was nothing a tartok wolf could not handle.
Aklark was thirsty, so he sought fresh water. There had been a lake he spied from the mountain, so he made his way east from the peak. It was only but a few miles away.
When he neared the lake, his paws sinking into the cool damp earth as he continued along, he saw a wolf; gangly and black. A youthful adult on the threshold between child and manhood. It was the nephew, Anuniak, the kin of Silaluk. Unlike with Anuniak's aunt, Aklark felt the bond he shared with Anuniak did not run as deep. Nevertheless, he was still familiar. Bretheren under the Tartok name.
Aklark made his advance. He acknowledged the familiar wolf with muted chuff as he made his way to lake's bank. He drew near -- wading ankle deep just as Anuniak had before dipping his mouth into the water to take a long drink.
He lifted his head slowly at the sound of approaching footfalls, eyes flicking to the bear-like form of another. He recognised the male immediately as Aklark, the male that nearly matched Silaluk in terms of size. He hadn't got to know him too well, but respected the man. His aunt had told him the violent story of how he had come into their ranks, but the fact that only Silaluk was able to best him was telling of his spirit. He suited Tartok.
At his soft bark of a greeting, Anuniaq returned one of his own, licking the falling water from his chin. He studied the grey wolf a few moments more before speaking, testing his knowledge of their language. "Unnuhatkut, Aklark," he said with a wave of his tail. A basic greeting first, to test him.
Aklark lifted his face from the water and turned to Anuniaq as he addressed him in the native tongue -- or rather, the native tongue of Tartok. Having grown elsewhere, Aklark did not learn the language as a child. Instead, he had to pick it up in adulthood upon his assimiliation into Tartok. It was difficult, but Aklark found it easy to pick up on the patterns through listening despite being past the specific stage of development in which language was readily learned.
Understanding was one thing, but speaking was another. "Ai," Aklark spoke. The language, as with all speach, felt clumsy on his tongue. However, he was proficient enough. "Qanuippit?" Did he desire small talk? Aklark couldn't help but wonder. He himself preferred to communicate in silence, or at least the common tongue, of which he had a better understanding.
One brow quirked at his response, although Anuniaq was not too surprised by Aklark's knowledge. He was one of the few here that had been with Tartok for a while now and would have no doubt picked up on their language. Still, even with his accent that carried over from his native tongue, he did well. "Qaniungi," he replied with a nod of respect.
"Good," he said then in the more common language, dipping his head to lap at the freezing waters once more. It was not mandatory that they learn their way of speech, but it showed that the wolves were more than loyal to the Tartok cause.