Phoenix Maplewood ikuallaktuk

A fat grouse tumbled across a well layered burm of red leaflitter, bumbling in a frenzy through the liminal boundary west of the forest and the grazed edge of the wood; it called out with a shriek as it lost its footing and went bowling head-over-tail along a narrow embankment, colliding with the base of a large maple tree at the bottom.

A few moments later Kigipigak's muddied shape appeared on the hill.

Twigs were tangled in his chest fur. The serrated mantle across his shoulders was slicked with a  mixture of cold mud and grass stains, one which marked the bridge of his nose. He was a mess; aside from the heavy breathing and the air that puffed gregariously from his slack jaw, his gaze was alight with mischief. He saw the spherical path through the piled leaves and plunged after it—barely catching his breath in between—and soon he vanished among the reds and golds of the wood, in pursuit of his lunch.