A print in the snow, pressed so deep with such weight behind it that it became muddied, reaching the earth below. For a long while, he stared at it, worried that by blinking or looking away it would disappear just as it seemed to do time and time again. Only today the wind did not blow, a dusting of powder yet to be swept over it—and today it was joined by several just like it, creating a line that he eventually found himself following.

Following until it vanished, that is—gone into thin air, a sudden end to grooves in the snow.

Frustrated and eager to find the trail once more, Aningan continued forward, following the direction he was sure the prints had to continue in. What he found, however, was another wolf—Ying, to be more precise, who he nearly stumbled into, too distracted by the task at hand to have noticed her. Thankfully, he caught on at the last second, giving himself just enough time to stop before colliding with her. “Sorry!” was the first word to leave his mouth, followed by several steps backward. “I almost didn’t see you.” He shot her a sheepish smile, embarrassment momentarily smothering his former task.

The first of words to leave her mouth were in her own tongue—he didn’t understand her but smiled anyway. “You were looking for me?” he asked after she switched to the common tongue, surprise written all over his face. He wondered what for but, before he could ask, remembered their agreement to teach one another. Recalling that bit of information, he was pretty sure her looking for him meant that she was ready for another lesson.

Aningan was prepared to ask what she wanted to learn today when she sat back, only for her remark to catch him off-guard. At first, he thought she was serious—and then he noticed the thumping of her tail. His own tail started to slowly sway back and forth as he answered with, “I don’t know.” He cocked his head to the side, watching her, as he returned the question: “What do you want?”

Aningan found her response to be surprising. She liked spending time with him? So, that meant they were friends, right? Surprise became wonder became enthusiasm—he made a friend all on his own, without the help of any else! “I like spending time with you, too!” he said back, tail a-waggin’. “You’re really nice.” Nice and didn’t get upset with him; she was amazing.

At the mention of potential ways to spend time—he was a bit sad that language lessons weren’t an option today but quickly looked past that—he turned thoughtful; a patrol could be nice but hunting could be better. Oh! Maybe… “Do you know how to fish?” he asked. “We can do that if you want. Or hunt! But I’m not sure what…” He tried to find where the prints led countless times before, only to come up empty-handed each time. He considered the possibility of two sets of eyes being better than one but, at the same time, he didn’t want to risk disappointing her. That would make him a bad friend, wouldn’t it?

As she stood, Aningan waited until she was closer and then began walking, excited; he was gradually getting better at fishing and was eager to show her what he could do. When she spoke, however, he paused and nodded, agreeing. “It is cold,” he said. “But it’s okay. You don’t even notice after awhile!” He, of course, spoke from experience—experience which was soon revealed to her as he steered them towards and already-made hole in the ice.

Yeah, this wasn’t his first time here—he spent quite some time practising (read: missing the fish, getting frustrated, and then shoving his face into the water all over again until he could no longer feel his nose).

“Have you fished before?” he asked, stopping next to the icy opening. If not, he was more than willing to show her the ropes; this he made obvious by the way he stood, eager and grinning.

Aningan’s ears perked as she explained that yes, she could fish. But when she mentioned the shore, his eyes widened with interest and surprise. “You fished from the sea?” he asked. “How did you do it? Didn’t the sea burn your eyes?” The Inuk tried once or twice to pluck a fish from the ocean, and all it ever resulted in was a face full of saltwater and no fish to make the sting worth it. He was amazed by her apparent ability to grab fish right out of the ocean—actually, that was a huge understatement: he was beyond impressed and wanted to see her in action, to learn how he could better his method of fishing.

When she mentioned a game, his attention was instantly grabbed. He settled along the water’s edge beside her, tail wagging the entire time. “Sure, I want to play a game,” he said, eager to start. “What are we playing?” He couldn’t remember the last time he played a game.

The game presented sounded more like a challenge than anything else but, even still, he was just as eager to play along. Nodding, he said, “Okay!” and stood up to stand over his previously-made hole. “We’re going to have a lot of fish.” Maybe, with an excess amount of fish, they could even add to the caches.

Aningan waited until after she made a hole for herself, then softly said, “Good luck, Ying.” After which, he focused on the task at hand, staring down into the water below. When he saw a fish drifting by leisurely, the boy crouched down and his head lurched forward, muzzle diving beneath the water’s surface—

—and resurfaced with a silver fish clasped tightly betwixt closed jaws.

Shaking his head to rid himself of any excess water after his last catch, the Inuk stole a look in his friend’s direction. He noticed the fish that she caught and then deposited onto dry land, resulting in the start of his tail wagging; he was happy for her, genuinely, and knew without a doubt now that their combined efforts would provide them with a feast. Grinning at the thought, he turned his attention back to the water and dunked his head in again, resurfacing moments later with yet another fish.

Another fish caught and deposited onto the banks, just the same as Ying. Tail swishing lazily back-and-forth, he poised himself over the water and stared in. Silver bodies darted in every direction, becoming more and more aware of the predators lurking over them—but they quickly forgot, because they’re just fish and only have one thing on the mind: mass destruction.

Anyway, Aningan dipped his muzzle down into the water once more, eyes locked onto a rather still fish—only to pull it out and realise that it was actually a rock, not a fish. Oh well, he still added it to his pile to keep the fish company.

Another head dunk and the results? Nothing. At least last time he snagged a nice looking rock but, this time around, the fish (and rocks) evaded his jaws. Shaking his head to rid himself of however much water he could, he settled back to give the fish some time to forget that he was there. In the meantime, he spied Ying’s pile growing—another fish added, sporting an impressive mass.

Aningan remained back from the water’s edge, watching the fish from a point where they could not see him—which seemed to work. Gradually, more and more fish started to fill the empty space, swimming to their little hearts’ content. Creeping closer, the male shoved his head in as quickly as he could and his efforts were fruitful—another fish added to his pile! Focused on the water now more than ever, he did not notice his fellow fisher look his way.

Overly-eager, Aningan dove in once more, only this time he was hardly prepared. Accidentally drawing in a breath at the same time his muzzle reached the water, he quickly resurfaced—without a fish but with a nose full of water, instead. Coughing and spluttering (as well as sneezing a few times), he worked to clear his airway before once again perching on the water’s edge, waiting to strike.

Although staring into the water, he couldn’t ignore the burning sensation in the back of his throat and in his nose; he should have been more careful, he knew, but it was too late now. Stepping back, he shook his head in an attempt to force even more water from his nose, only to stop seconds later at the sound of her voice.

Aningan paused, clearly embarrassed. “I think so,” he told her, partially a lie. Honestly, he wanted to go back in time, like, five minutes ago and stop himself from sucking in a bunch of water. But he would get over it—he had to since time travel is impossible. Ignoring his own distress, he watched to see what she was doing as their fish were joined together, head cocked to the side.

And then she explained.

Smiling, he agreed: “Yeah, we both win.” Moving away from the water, he joined her next to the pile. “Yours look like they taste better, though,” he said, then nosed the fish closer to her. “You have first pick of which one you want to eat.” And while she picked, he used his paw to move his rock friend away from the pile and off to the side, freeing it back into the wild.