Emberwood water keeper

above the fire-forest was a peak of stone over which more caribou still traveled. recalling the tactic he and ridgeback had once used against goats, he knew several animals could be felled at once from the sharp spires.

performing a slow loop of the woodland at sundown, sun eater kept his eye trained upon that place, tracing its granite points until a plan began to coalesce.

he chewed a strip of meat in contemplative silence, forelegs crossed carefully before him as the throbbing ache from the bruise went on.

Winter’s Wake did not like to speculate. If he had a question, if his curiosity burned hot enough, he would ask. His attentions had been directed towards the caribou-hunters, and when he spied an opportunity to speak with the wolf who appeared to lead them, he took his chance to approach without a second thought.

He was also tactful. He carried a gift, a hare, a token of peace. And the snowrunner was sure to make his presence known long before coming upon the lounging man. He padded loosely near, posture lank.

Distance kept, affording himself a moment to gauge the stormcloud’s reaction to his presence, he dropped the prey and nudged it forward. Ave, he greeted. I come to share blood with you.

there were few things that caught sun eater's pointed intrigue, but one of them was a male not from the saatsine on approach.

in these past weeks, the lanzadoii man had seen many young caribou bulls driven from their natal herds and further chastised by the fighting churn of older caribou in the rut. they had formed coalitions of their own, daring from time to time; running in to see if a cow could be wooed or stolen.

wolves were not unlike caribou. there were women not yet spoken for within sun eater's band, and he was perceptive to the season's demand even now that pairing begin. meleys would never sully herself with a man who was not lanzadoii; he could not be certain of the others.

a gift of rabbit. a careful step. sharing blood. sun eater finished his bites in a leisurely fashion and slowly sat up with a stretching roll to hard shoulders.

this man did not smell of pack, moving him up some vague notch in interest. "you find saatsine. i am sun eater, chieftain of sun clan." the single eye moved unhurriedly over the hale build of the stranger. "why you have come?"

A single eye of glittering winterwater, a well-muscled spine, and unhurried paws made from stone. This was a wolf that had run more miles than most, tread over more terrains and seen more lands. Wake found in his thoughts a stirring of respect for the dark wolf, this Sun Eater of Sun Clan, Saatsine. He cleared space for the preconception to grow and loomed over it with his paw in case he needed to quickly stamp it out.

I am called Winter’s Wake, he told the sunwolf. His company spoke with an accent unfamiliar to him, so he tried to be mindful of a potential language barrier as they went on.

I came to learn of you, of your people, if allowed. The rabbit is for your trouble of listening to me, or just a gift, if your ways are private.

this offer of a token did not amend sun eater's original thought of the man, but the name interested him, for it was not dissimilar to the naming convention he had established here — here with these promising ones who did not yet speak lanzadoii.

their guest held the same potential propensity for blood-letting and violence. sun eater had not yet reminded his newest of their restrictions; that he must be saatsine. it was one of the first edicts he had ever seen enforced, and it would be among them also.

"i tell some. ask." dark jaws lazily took up the limp creature; he ripped it open and set into the organs with single-minded intent, though the upright ears invited this man to speak.

Wake bobbed his head gratefully then reclined neatly to his haunches. The tip of his tail flicked against the cold dirt, and he watched the stormgatherer with the passive energy of a cat contemplating a toy. He waited for the first bite to speak.

What are the guiding ways of your Sun Clan? Is it religious in nature? Religion he understood. Tradition, even more. It was clear from his observations that they followed the caribou, but did they believe in claiming no territory, establishing no roots? If so, it was unlikely these wolves would ever be a threat to the packs in the valley, whether they gorged themselves or not.

"not me. but for some," sun eater answered, cracking a leg-bone to lick red marrow from its innards. "the caribou spirits have — pleasure, when we follow, the lanzadoii. some caribou hunters not follow. but we will."

the single eye was resolute. "power in following. only strong hunters make new bands."

belief in that of a kind, he supposed, though he remained intent upon the reason for this questioning.

Sun Eater spoke candidly. And just as he’d said, his ways were the same and also different from what the other wolf told him. They were two halves of the same peak: one a spiritualist searching for answers, the other of simple realities, of plain order and tradition. Wake didn’t bat an eye at this.

And how does one become of the Sun Clan? Is it by birthright alone?

"say 'i am saatsine.' take second name, clan words. keep lanzadoii ways."

it was simple to him, pointed in its singular focus of preservation. 

now an assumptive grin painted itself to the teeth of the hunter. "you want saatsine woman, winter-wake?" gentle enough tease; roughness between men.