Bitterroot Valley kiira-k ikug-luk

A wayward caribou trundled across the snow-thick expanse. Some distance aft, striding with purpose, was the wolf. Together they made quite the pair: equally road-weary, windswept, and determined.

In the case of the caribou, limping with a blood-soaked hip.

out upon the plains.

kukutux had gathered the femurs of four caribou. she lay them out reverently upon the snow plain.

she did not have her daughter's predilection for these things.

but she had come to make an altar.

"tukutukaniq," she sang out.

"we thank you for the gift of your bodies."

"we will eat and grow strong on your kindness."

"each year we honor one another."

As the first flakes of snow found their way between the antlers of the caribou, or touched upon the shoulder of the wolf, there came a sound.

They both heard it - though it was the caribou which reacted with more urgency. The sight of the white wolf pushed the caribou off its path and away, afraid.

The wolf wanted to ignore the words being spoken, but they were familiar, and as such they were unexpected here. He passed where the caribou had veered and continued hiking across the snow, seeking the voice.

A woman took shape soon after. He watched her overtly, while listening to the progress of the prey as it escaped for the time being.

kukutux grew more resonant as the caribou swept around her.

it was not until she felt the weight of eyes that she turned.

he was a tall and strong-looking hunter, built for the long running.

at this distance she could not guess of his years.

kukutux continued her song of thanks, body aligned curiously toward the watcher.

Scattered around her were limbs. He thought them sticks at first, which was odd, for the field was barren. They were lined with thin coarse hair, some hide, and where roots should be there were instead toes, which were clue enough that he was wrong.

She was speaking to the wind. Perhaps this was a prayer of some kind. The wolf wondered why such a thing was needed - neither he, nor his people, ascribed to such superstition.

Stop your chanting. I have need of a hunter to aid me. Come, be of use.

The wolf spoke in their shared language and wondered if his speaking might surprise her to action. He did not care about the strong manner of his tone or the command that was within the words, expecting to be heeded.

her chants wavered.

kukutux looked at the man. he spoke her words, those of kigipigak and issoratuyok. she did not yet know that the duskfire man's siblings had come to the glacier, else she might have thought this one among their number.

"this man knows the words of the snow. then this man will know that the caribou must be thanked for their gifts." her tone was soft. "and this man must know that interrupting the words of a prayer invites bad luck."

she watched him. "i will help you when i have finished."

up her voice again, for the final three lines of the song.

She was stunned, and stunning, but when she spoke the lustre within his gaze darkened. The scowl that graced his face was answer enough; but he did not leave, and would wait.

The man turned to watch the caribou as it finally slowed its own pace to rest, finding a rare opportunity to catch its breath while the pursuer was occupied.

The wolf was impatient.

when the last notes hovered in the air, kukutux turned back to the man. 

she offered him the respect of downcast eyes as she came to his flank. her smaller form indicated that she would hunt as he directed. kukutux was eager for the taste of more caribou flesh.

and a small part of her was pleased to be directed in some way by a man of the north.

her breath hung in a plume. when he moved she would follow, lengthening her stride to approach the caribou.

this close moonwoman saw that he had the years of zane. but where the ostrega man had not wished to make a life and a home, this one spoke with the air of one who had his instruction heeded.

When the song was over the wolf huffed, turning to look at the woman again. There was clearly something on his mind but when he saw the way her eyes dropped, watching the earth with a measure of respect, he reconsidered.

Together they left the pile of leg bones and sought the caribou. The creature had made decent headway, and when it saw the two wolves moving together, made haste across the plain.

The wolf did not comment. He drew energy from a deep well within himself, forcing himself to move despite having followed this caribou since the pre-dawn hours; he would not let weakness interrupt his work.

kukutux mirrored him.

he smelled of deep and wild places. even those beyond the taiga. his untamed nature reminded her of the island. the moonwoman allowed herself this quiet pleasure.

she trotted beside him, and eventually she split from the papiktuuk and quickened her pace, seeking to drive the caribou into deeper snow.

While he toiled against the terrain, the woman bolted forth to chase the caribou.

The creature was a ways ahead and was using the distance created by his distraction to the fullest extent; so when the white wolf sought it, the caribou did not deviate from its path and moved cleanly away, avoiding the depths.

The wolf grumbled sourly and came upon the spot the white wolf had prowled earlier, cutting opposite her path, so that they could scissor towards the target — but it was no use. The tired thing had outpaced them.

A curse left his lips and the wolf, panting, stopped his chase. It was no good now and he knew it.

she clucked her tongue.

kukutux would not say to this man that he should have not interrupted her chant.

now the caribou had taken offense. they would not give themselves so easily this day.

she trotted faster along the snow. the man might be angry. but she would not give up. "this woman wonders what is the name that your village has."

He could hear her alongside, clucking like a hen.

It wasn't until she spoke properly that he looked to her again and with an addled, flustered mien he huffed, My village has no name, I only hunt.

The wolf was proud of this all the same.

He grew boastful in the measured way of someone well learned in their craft: My hunters come from the far-frozen sea, as do you. You are far from home, agnak. Did you lose your husband in the snow?

he was a man of no name.

but he was a strong hunter.

perhaps this was his name.

in her mind he was sharp bird over hard water.

"my husband is in our winter camp. he keeps watch over our village while i go out to pray." 

the symbiosis of man and wife.

The wolf sniffs the air. He is not oblivious to the scents she carries and does not recognize any of them, only that there are many.

A winter camp. He looks around as if a clue might fall with the snow, but he does not see far. The way the low clouds spread like mist as they empty of snow gives everything a haze, limiting vision. He wonders where she has come from and sees the path behind her of freshly fallen white laid out across depressions; the path she has walked.

Take me to your camp. Your prayer is what drove the caribou from my grasp. It had been my prey for six long nights, but it was this morning that ended my hunt. It was your useless prayer, snow-woman. Thought the wolf with a shine of disdain to his eye.

What do I call you? Algaksruiruk? The wolf smirks, but there is nothing humorous about him. It is an ill-fitting mask.

she had spoken of a husband.

and yet this man still sought to command her.

was he so brazen that he did not know the proper respects?

kukutux rounded upon him, stopping stiff in the snow. "it is the songs of my village which have given many hands of caribou to both our hunters and the ones of village duskfire. there was sickness in the herds when we came. our together-running has cleansed much of it. you lost your caribou because you offended its spirit when you stopped the words of respect. if you come to my camp and if you are given the hospitality of a trader at the hearth of moonwoman, you will not be so disrespectful."

her eyes snapped with green fire. "if you follow for six nights, it brings a bad spirit to follow a night of seven." it was clear that the caribou had not wanted to give itself. she thought him too old to be a young hunter upon a soul-hunt.

her eyes sparked with green fire. kukutux would only give to a man deference until he had seen to trample it under his foot.

The way she stopped and spun on him gave rise to little emotion, as if he were made of solid clay and held no life at all. A golem.

He listened to the spilling of words and saw the way her eyes lit like emeralds as she spoke of her supersition. Aside from that part, the wolf liked what he saw.

I do not care for your spirits or your silly fears. I am a man of Tartok, we know better.

And then he laughed; the sound was a crack of dry thunder, rolling from his chest. This too did not suit him; it had been a long while from the last time he had laughed at all.

Let us go to your camp so I may eat, and be on my way. Once her debt was repayed he had no desire to linger, not when his hunters prowled after caribou without him.

"you are of tartok."

kukutux was unsure that she was willing to bring him to her camp unless he understood her role.

"then you will know the word issumatar."

her tail slowly waved. kukutux did not know why she found some enjoyment in this.

He understood, of course he understood. The gaze of the wolf flared brightly a moment before he scowled.

A younger wolf would be proud that the influence of Tartok had crept so far: Tulimaq was offended more appropriately. This woman dared compare herself to the strength of the matriarchs?

You come from ice, but you are not Tartok. He glowered and went quiet, but also averted his gaze in the slightest way also, unable to help the base instinct of deferral.

"tartok lives among my people. we have found a way that works for both clans."

gratified, she turned and moved toward their camp. her legs were swift. she would not speak again until they had arrived.

the man had angered her. she was unused to the sensation, and she did not care for it.