Duskfire Glacier iqaluksiuq

a few hours of roaming brought her to the meltwater of a lake; the day was clear and so the lake reflected the white-blue above, and spread out before her vision as smooth as glass. pinewood lined much of this place, darkening the contours of the lake's shape so that further investigation would have to transpire before she had it fully mapped out. that was not her aim, though.
her own narrow, dark figure spidered along the edge.
it was easy to find the more rich scents of strangers here—she counted numerous women, as she had earlier suspected. a sparse number of men, which upon discovery of such musk, sulukinak felt a curious thrill in the pit of her belly. bowing a shoulder to the dirt, the woman bent and rolled, and collected those scents; better to integrate herself, she thought. the sea brine scent of her travels would quickly be overshadowed.
when upright again, shaking the wild and spiking furs of her nape and shoulders, she continued alongside the water's edge as if on the hunt for a meal. her aim was something else entirely.

keshka spotted her first in the glass of the lake. a shadow shifting along the water's edge, unfamiliar and easy to place as new. the woman carried herself like someone looking for something—whether it was trouble or purpose, keshka couldn't tell. either way, she intended to find out.
she approached without hurry, silent but for the soft crunch of frost underfoot. her sharp gaze swept over the stranger, noting the roll through the dirt, the deliberate take of darukaal's scent clinging to her pelt. clever, that. or maybe just desperate.
either way, keshka drew near, stopping just short of the woman’s shoulder. close enough to be felt, but not close enough to crowd.
keshka, she introduced simply, voice a low rasp, her accent curling the edges of the name like smoke. there was nothing friendly about the way she said it, but neither was there hostility. just fact.
her eyes lingered, cool and assessing, before she tipped her head slightly.
you?

how long would she stay? she could hunt forever; the caribou were plentiful, and the lake likely held fish. there were men here to help with the bigger threats. to hunt was the only obligation the man had proposed to her. any wolf unable to hunt would die, that was the natural law.
as she peered across the lake surface again, she patiently waited for any sign of fish. a ripple, a flash of their almond-shape; there was movement but it was only the distantly reflected prehistoric silhouette of a wading bird. it was enough to draw her eye, and from there sulukinak spied a pale, terrestrial figure approaching.

a woman.
an immediate annoyance sprang to life for the shadow, nostrils flaring as that feminine scent grew in strength around her.
keshka. it could've been a greeting—but no, it was not. even sulukinak with all of her abscent social grace could tell that much.

sulukinak. steel in her spine, she has that flighty look again; like before, she is ready to leave the moment things turn sour. it is almost as if she expects this to a greater degree here, versus when she'd met the man upon the glacier.

keshka watched the woman from the corner of her eye as she neared, noting the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her gaze kept flicking toward the trees like she was already halfway gone.
typical.
never rooted. never still.
keshka didn’t say much. didn’t need to. she only let her presence linger, quiet and steady beside her, as if to remind sulukinak she wasn’t the only shadow here.
you're the new recruit, then? the lake rippled. the wind shifted. somewhere beneath it all, keshka’s focus stayed fixed on her, reading the subtle ways she braced for nothing.
and still, she didn’t leave. not yet.

he said i could stay. if i hunt. she elucidated only so much, as she had not learned the man's name. the two of them carried the same man's scent by now (thanks in no small part to her rolling); a primal part of sulukinak was bothered by this shared thing between them.
the heron she had seen reflected earlier, no longer soaring, swept to the side of the lake and settled there to watch for frogs.
sulukinak wondered many things. he is yours? the man.
or maybe it went the other way: the man collected women. what limited evidence the shadow had gathered did support the idea; so did her own biases, presuming he was like any stray beast from the icefields. maybe he waited to see who among the women could hunt the best?

keshka’s laugh came sharp and sudden, ringing out over the quiet water like the crack of bone. her shoulders rolled back, chin lifting with the sound, amused in a way that was rare for her.
no, she scoffed, shaking her head as though the very thought was absurd. i’ve no use for a husband. her tongue clicked softly against her teeth. men are slow. i prefer battle.
the words were simple, unbothered, as though she had already weighed such things and tossed them aside long ago. the idea of being tethered to anyone, least of all some glacier man, was laughable.
her gaze shifted toward the lake, watching the ripple of the heron’s wings as it settled, and then back to sulukinak.
he’s not mine. nor yours, i’d wager. she shrugged with mock indifference, a slyness curling at the corner of her mouth. let him try and keep us.

laughter crackled through the air. it did not assuage any of sulukinak's feelings, if anything she felt more tense, but she did not run. she wanted the answer and she got it.
oddly, it was as if the woman knew just what she was thinking. maybe it was a female intuition.

you are hunter then. because that was the deal the man had made with her, so it made sense to sulukinak that others would be given the same option.
now sulukinak gave the woman another look-over, seeing more now that she was focused. keshka had a more masculine energy. the scar across her eye brought to mind her uncle cen. a man might call her pretty, or intimidating; maybe the glacier man saw opportunity there.

how many live here? she asks next, drawing her gaze away finally, to watch the heron who dipped now towards the water. the glassy surface is disturbed as it tries to spear something from the depths.

keshka's ears flicked, her grin widening as if pleased by the girl's deduction. yes, she confirmed plainly, her voice as blunt as the slash across her face. hunter. it was all she had ever been. all she ever wanted to be.
she followed sulukinak's gaze to the water, tracking the bird's lunge, but her attention remained half on the woman beside her. last i counted? ten. a lazy shrug of her shoulders, as if numbers hardly mattered. big enough to hold the glacier. small enough to keep sharp.
her eyes drifted back to the shadowy figure of the other woman. she looked like she knew how to run, how to keep pace. keshka admired that.
want to hunt? she asked, tilting her head, the offer effortless but genuine. there's plenty of land here to prove you're worth feeding.

ten.
sulukinak in that moment could not recall how many scents she had found. she did not think it was that many, but maybe she could not count so high. how many had been saatsine? no, she didn't know that either. often keeping away from the gathered bodies there, as she would here as well.

the question of a hunt, now, between them—a test, perhaps—presented itself.
hunt what? she queried softly, and motioned a moment later towards the heron who had speared a frog, and even from a distance one could see the struggle of thin legs sprouting from a soft, square body. sulukinak wondered aloud, do the caribou climb the ice?
she could hardly believe them capable of that. but, sometimes they were lost and frozen to death within the everdark, so there was a possibility.

keshka shakes her head, slow and firm, casting a glance toward the stretch of ice behind them. no. just over the peak, she says, voice low, like the wind might carry it too far if she wasn't careful. isolated plain. they graze there.
her gaze flicks to the heron, to the dangling frog legs kicking weakly in the bird's beak. it earns a huff from her, something close to amusement but dulled by the ever-present cold. not here, she adds, following sulukinak’s question. too steep. too slick. they keep to the flats.
her shoulders roll in a slow shrug. you’ll see. and with that, she starts forward, expecting the shadow to follow, her pace unhurried but certain, already picturing the herd in her mind’s eye. sturdy bodies dark against the snow. plenty for the taking.

she was right.
i know caribou, commented the shadow as she turned from the lakeside, moving so that the waters were behind her and the heron ignored now; but she heard it plunge again for a meal. a slick, sharp sound.
sulukinak had not mentioned to the man, or to this keshka, her connection to the caribou hunters. it had not been asked; but even if it had been requested of her, who is to say if she would speak the truth?
they are far from glacier now. she went on to say. might see new mothers, soon. pick off a little one.

the small ones make for easy sport, she agreed, her gaze cutting briefly toward the water where the heron worked at its meal. the sound of the bird's catch was distant but familiar, a reminder that there was food all around if you knew where to look.
she turned, stepping lightly away from the lake’s edge, casting sulukinak a glance over her shoulder. how about something smaller for now? there was no rush for bigger prey. no sense in tiring themselves out when a quick meal would do.
fish. hare. whatever we can flush out. a simple plan. an easy hunt. her tail flicked once, signaling for the woman to follow. save your strength for the ungulates.
it was a rare offer from keshka. a rare invitation. whether the shadow would take it, she didn’t know. but there was something in the way sulukinak moved, the way she carried herself—flighty, yet always watching.

something smaller?
it made sense. two could not bring down any caribou no matter their skill; it was wiser to always have four, the more the easier it became. as the woman had spent the last few weeks doing just that: hunting small things, scavenging where appropriate — it would be more of the same, but with backup.
a nod. and she's moving again, this time towards the lakeside, head down.
maybe something could be scouted here, first. maybe the heron had ruined any chance at fish, or frogs; between the two wolves, something would be discovered.

keshka followed in quiet agreement, her strides long and smooth beside sulukinak. maybe fish, she said simply, voice low as her eyes scanned the lakeshore. the heron had made its claim on the water’s edge, but there were always scraps left in nature’s wake—always some small thing unaware of its fate.
her nose dipped toward the ground, catching faint traces: rabbit, perhaps. maybe vole. not much, but enough for a meal if they were swift about it.
she flicked a glance toward the other woman, the faintest curl at the corner of her lips. we’ll find what we need, keshka added, shifting closer to the trees that fringed the lake. good caches.
and with that, she fell into an easy, practiced pace, ready to flush out whatever the land was willing to give.

a hot meal would do them good, she thought. rabbit were quick and sulukinak trusted she was quicker; maybe some hares remained fattened from the wintertime and would be sluggish, or sleepy. if not that, then fish would do too, she was not picky when it came to food.
keshka moved to the tree line, then the shadows beneath, and sulukinak sulked after her. she was invested in the scents now, like any good blood-hound. she would steal glances at the pale figure too; curious and wary to equal degrees, but overall too hungry to let herself become distracted for long.

there was a sound in the undergrowth a few lengths ahead, and sulukinak plunged among the foliage in pursuit of the sound.
erupting out of the other side in a cacophony—several pheasants! not what was expected. the shadow girl snapped after them and found her teeth scything air, grazing only feathers which plumed in the chaos.

keshka’s ears flicked sharp at the rattle of wings, the sudden rush of bodies skyward. a blur of motion, gold eyes catching the flare of brown and white as the pheasants broke from the brush.
yip!
the sound shot out, sharp and bright, a bark of thrill as she lunged. her legs coiled beneath her and she launched, up—higher than seemed sensible—teeth flashing wide to snap onto the edge of a wing. the bird shrieked, beat hard against her grasp, but gravity favored her; keshka yanked it down, slamming the pheasant to the frost-heavy earth with a satisfying thud.
she panted over it, grip tightening as it gave its final struggle, then went limp.
without pause, she looked over to sulukinak. breath visible in the chill, chest heaving, a grin cut across her dark muzzle as she tossed the bird's body toward her companion.

for one so tall and heavy (compared to the slim swimmer's body of sulukinak) it was a wonderful surprise to watch keshka spring to life, quite literally.
it was a frenzy until it wasn't. the feathers cleared, falling as auburn tufts to the dirt and snow, and with the hunter successful. by comparison sulukinak was at a great loss: she had a mouthful of tail feathers and not much else.
as keshka threw her kill, the shadow girl's jaws opened quickly to grab for it. at least this she caught! but she did not eat it. there was the urge to shake her head and take out her frustration for a moment, only this was not her kill and so that was not her place.
the pheasant was dropped between her paws as gingerly as she could manage. clean kill. you are fast. she spits a bit of feathering from her lips where it had stuck.

keshka snorts through a grin, chest heaving as she stands over the downed bird. her tongue flicks across her lips, cleaning the stray bits of down clinging there. if i am not strong as a bull, she says, flashing sulukinak a sideways glance, got to be fast.
her tail gives a satisfied swish, watching the girl handle the tail feathers like some prize, and it coaxes a small, breathy laugh from her throat. you almost had one, she adds, trying to smooth over the loss, though her tone is playful, warm beneath the grit. next time you grab the neck. no mercy.
keshka nudges the pheasant at sulukinak’s paws with her nose. go on. tear it up. we share. and then she’s moving to settle down nearby, licking the blood from her claws as her rosen eyes stay half-lidded, content.

sulukinak agreed with her reasoning, seeing it as a serious assertion of the other woman's capabilities and not something foolish, like a joke, as she did not know how to joke. keshka appeared strong from the start, it had been her speed which had shocked sulukinak the most; but she reasoned, she was a larger wolf and likely was more comfortable with this kind of prey, while sulukinak herself only knew what was scavenged or fished from the ice in the far-flung expanse of her first home.
was she overthinking? yes. did she know that? absolutely not.
when offered the chance to eat, sulukinak did not dally. she descends upon the pheasant in a manner that would have impressed a wolverine; cracking the neck, popping a wing free, tearing skin and causes a commotion of feathers and splintering, hollow bones.