The call drew him from the rise.
The threat of strange men on the horizon did not dampen Tulimaq's spirits, nor did he worry over the red girl. If she were targeted then she would deal with the man herself — or she would be a victim, and the warrior of Tartok would move on.
No, he sought the voice because it was the sound of a healthy male calling in to the dark, expecting the warmth of a woman to meet him, where instead he would find the territorial nature of the wolf.
Come out, come out — and oh, there he was, plunging through the snow.
The stranger did not hold firm. He took one look upon Tulimaq and began to retreat, which might have signaled to the Tartok warrior that there was no need to be so quick with his pursuit - but he did not relent.
His path would follow after the white wolf until his figure dissolved among the snowfall; then, finding some stump or fallen log crusted with ice, Tulimaq would lift a leg and mark it strongly.
This would become a control point for his later patrols — aware now of the man that crept along in the dark. If he would not fight now, Tulimaq need only wait.
Once satisfied that his warning was in place, Tulimaq turned and began the steady hike back towards the rise; alert in case of danger, with his blood burning, as he went unsatisfied.