kukutux listened carefully. she was dark as the blue sea ice woman had been, but softer, less honed by care and hunting. graceful, the limbs of a young hind; delicate as was the cloudberry wolfess. she watched the sunwarmed glacier-water of the stranger observe her respectfully; 

a hunting-mark, perhaps, across the slender breast.

someone interesting indeed. "i am kukutux, wisewoman of village moonglow," she introduced, gesturing with smiling muzzle to the land at her back, the beauteous treeline seeming to lean forward as if to embrace them both. "this place is for all. what do you bring in trade?" and here the duck's eyes shone with good humour.