Although the herd that once inhabited the land was yet to return, the small game remained; to survive off of the little things was not nearly as fulfilling at what he was used to eating but it was enough to get him by—but not enough to keep caches filled, the wintry winds making even the boldest of beasts cower as of late. Aningan found himself searching for a meal despite this, wondering if he might even be so lucky as to have the rarity of leftovers. But what his search turned up was another wolf instead, his stalking form difficult to spot against the snow; at first, the young leader wasn’t sure he was seeing correctly but, moments later, he realised who it was.

“Tuvak!” he called out, legs carrying him towards the younger boy. “How are you doing?” From the looks of things, he seemed more capable of carrying on through the snow now—but he also looked rather disgruntled, and at what Aningan was curious.

The boy did not appear as easygoing as Aningan; he seemed skeptical, causing the young leader to wonder about him. Was he fitting in well? Was he greeting others? He wasn’t sure if asking such things would be taken well, so he bit back the flow of questions for the time being. Instead, he flashed a smile and wagged his tail, putting on the friendliest of faces that he was capable of with his own awkwardness.

“What are you up to?” he asked, eager to get them both to relax. Truthfully, he knew very little about the boy, aside from his name and their shared heritage; they were both of northern blood, able to speak—or partially speak—in a tongue that so few knew in these lands. It made him curious, more than anything, wondering from where Tuvak came. He wanted to know more, as he was more interested in the other male than he’d be in anyone else for some time now. There was so much to ask, almost too much, and yet the only other question to leave his mouth was: “Do you want to walk with me?”

He was on a roll.

A wide smile took over the male’s expression when Tuvak agreed to join him. He stood in place until the boy was nearer to him, then began heading towards the treeline; he wasn’t entirely sure where they should go but he felt like the trees, which might have protected the ground partially from the snow, could potentially make it easier to walk. Either way, he wasn’t too concerned—they had nowhere to be, as far as the bear was aware, and he was more interested in talking, anyways. And while he started out quiet, that quickly changed after he was able to settle his mind and piece together actual words into real sentences.

“Where were you born?” was the first of many questions to be asked that day. “Are you from the far north?” Up until then, Aningan convinced himself that Tuvak was, without a doubt, led to him from the north. It was only when he really thought it through that he realised he never actually asked the boy where he was from—he heard his first language and immediately made assumptions, forgetting that others could easily be taught the language, as Maegi was. Speaking of Maegi and conversations with her…

“Who are your parents?” Did he know them? Probably not—Aningan knew very few northerners outside of his own family, after all. And even those he didn’t know as well as he should.

Aningan was quiet, giving the younger boy all the time in the world that he needed to answer. His first response was not unexpected—he assumed right!—but still made him smile. “My family is from the north, too,” he shared, hoping to better connect with him; the emotions that came with being in the company of another northerner were indescribable. However, he did wonder why the child knew so little of their language if his family was truly from the north. But the Inuk did not question him further on the matter—surely there must be some other northerners out there that weren’t all too good at the language, either. Just the same as how not everyone was good using the common tongue.

There was more than he wanted to ask, about his family and upbringing, what brought him there, but when he spoke again and his expression soured… he thought it might be best to leave the topic for another day, if ever. “Kangâ,” he said in place of further questions. “I didn’t mean to ask too much.” Even if he was curious, he knew he should respect boundaries. Under similar circumstances, he wasn’t so sure he would appreciate being questioned, either.

As a question was turned towards him instead, he didn’t fight the change of topic. “It’s… home,” he answered, uncertain how else to describe it. “I don’t really know too much about this place. I know there is nice coverage and that there used to be deer here but not much else. I used to live beside the sea.” And before that, a glacier. The finer details of the plateau were not something that he knew much about. Slowly, he was learning more and more about the land through exploration but, overall, much of it remained a mystery.

Aningan was at a loss for words—what was it like? He fell silent, thoughtful, trying to come up with the best way to describe the sea. “The sea is… very big. And deep,” he tried to explain. “Imagine a lake that stretches on forever. So big, you never see the other side of it. And the water… the water burns your eyes and dries out your tongue.” Talking about it, it sounded kind of awful—“But it looks amazing. And there’s so much life in it.” Some life that ventured out of the sea and onto the shore, small meals on which he once dined.

The boy spoke of a mountain as his home, which Aningan had some experience with. “Before the shore, I lived on a glacier,” he shared. “It’s like a mountain but… colder, I guess? I remember there always being snow.” He loved it for that reason—if only it loved him, too. Shaking his head, he forced down any regretful thoughts that threatened to rise. Instead, he focused on spending time with Tuvak. And when there was nothing left to share, the older male parted ways with him, leaving the kid to his own devices.