Redhawk Caldera kirgavik

Further south Kigipigak went. There were no signs of cat-scent, bear-scent, or anything of the sort which might beg caution from the man. Neither did he find Sakhmet's path, but he did not relent in his hunt for her. He took respite within the woods, spending a night beneath familiar stars but without any company.

In the morning Kigipigak thought of finding breakfast for all of five minutes, only to ignore the subtle pang of hunger in his gut, favoring the ache in his chest that had been present since noticing Sakhmet's absence. He emerged from the forest out of a southerly path between the trees in time to see the sun's glare cut by another mountain range; this one flat and wide.

This time the man's approach was sluggish, as he had not slept well, if at all. Kigipigak stopped only when the pack scent caught in his nose, telling him to be wary, to slow down. He paused and then sucked in a breath, having found no sign of the girl.

A wandering eye caught what appeared to be a white whisp moving not far from their borders, and Āzon was already up on the move towards it. Thankfully, this whisp did not decide to move beyond that marked line to earn more of an aggressive approach, but wariness would not leave him because of that simple fact.

As Ignis neared, the whisp became bigger and more robust, until he finally stumbled upon a rather large northerner he'd never met before. Stark like his own coat, and with curious looking scars that carved parts of his face.

A chuff was offered upon closing in with neutrality, but no words as of yet. Āzon thought the boy would've been able to explain himself anyway, since it seemed he was searching for something around here...

As Kigipigak drew along the path towards the edge of the claim, he saw a shape. It felt as if he were looking at a mirror-image of himself. The closer he got the less alike they appeared; scarred in the face like he was, but more garish. He did not look long upon the stranger's face lest he stare and cause upset, eye-to-eye, and still found the length of scar upon the man's head to be formidable. Deep beneath his worried thoughts he pondered what misadventure had created that wound.

The guard waited patiently for Kigipigak to gather himself, catch his breath, and speak. He seemed expectant for an explanation. The northerner wouldn't have him wait for long.

I greet you. He starts. I am looking for someone. There is a young woman, her coat is very dark and sometimes warm, like rich autumn leaves in shadows. What else could set her apart from any other? She is small and quick, and very kind. Her name is Sakhmet.

Asking around for signs of her was becoming a tired affair; Kigipigak did not know where else he would have to go, who he would have to ask, before she would return to him. How long had she waited when Kigipigak had been injured? He would give her at least that long.

Has she been this way?

The boy, surprisingly young looking given his size, did not seem to challenge his posture as he came closer and looked overall calm, which brought relaxed breath to leave his nostrils. He spoke in greeting, and Āzon would return the greeting with a curt nod. 'I greet you'  -- something about that was too formal for his taste compared to a simple 'Hello', but the Guardian wasn't one to judge, so he accepted it either way.

Next, he spoke of someone else he had yet to meet -- a girl. His description was quite dreamy, and romantic in a way that made the tundrian shift his eyes and lick his lips uncomfortably. 'Ah, to be young and mushy again', he thought. It was probably an out of place thought to be having in front of someone who looked so worried, so he turned back to the northerner with knitted brows and a slow head shake.

"M'sorry son. 'Fraid I haven't seen anyone of the sort 'round here with yer description..." He said regretfully. Did he know someone here enough to walk up an ask, was that it? If so, how come he's never heard of him?

"Say...what's yer name again?"

The man listened to the description but already Kigipigak knew, before he spoke, that Sakhmet had not come this way. There was no spark of identification to his eyes, no immediate recognition. When he did speak it was to confirm that nobody matched such a description.

That was unfortunate. Kigipigak would have to go elsewhere and keep looking; he had resigned himself to this fate, knowing that she was worth the trouble. She had waited for him as he recovered from his wounds and the least he could do was be patient, as well as tenacious, as he hunted for signs of her.

I am Kigipigak, the young man answered. He had been so distracted by his loyalty to Sakhmet that he hadn't even introduced himself properly - but oh well. I live north of here on the other side of the valley. We - myself and this woman, Sakhmet - had hoped to lay claim to the plateau there. It did not seem as if fate was on Kigipigak's side once again.

If she does visit here, please, let her know I am waiting for her?