Qeya River arjuni-akt-i

Tags for reference but also open!

The assertion made by @Nyra that there was sickness spreading throughout the wilds, while true, had not registered for Kigipigak as a direct threat until he took notice of the roving caribou of the northlands. While he had been patrolling between the camps he had discovered the trail of some such creatures: a family of caribou that were six strong, with more young than adult, splintered from the collective.

The healthiest among them hiked ahead at quite the range. Kigipigak held back on the urge to give chase immediately; his goal was to find them, track them, and then report back to @Lótë or @Kukutux, so that something could be arranged with those of Duskfire. The family was moving westward through the deep woods, towards the glacier.

Kigipigak was not as efficient on this terrain because he did not know it. When he smelled water in the air he thought it was only the glacier and went on moving, albeit too quickly, and nearly plunged off of a steep hill in to the nearby river. There he was forced to gather his bearings; but also, it was there he spotted something very strange.

A pale creature with thin limbs, a crooked neck, and red-rimmed eyes. It looked tall but stooped, as if it were very old, but its white crown was small and did not look the same as its larger, healthier herd-mates; the ones that had rushed off upon first smelling Kigipigak on approach.

He studied this strange thing and sniffed the air, unnerved by the look of it.

Lane traveled the riverbank at an easy pace. She knew this land like the back of her paw. Every curve of the bank was warm and familiar, like the embrace of friend. Soon the meltwater lake would be swallowed by the glacier and this river would turn to ice, but that day was not here yet. The river flowed freely, and every now and then a salmon leapt up from its icy depths. 

She halted a she came upon a blanched-looking deer, shaking and bending to the water for a drink. Lane's amber eyes scanned her surroundings, landing on an ivory wolf nearly camouflaged against a backdrop of snow and ice. Kigipigik. Lane smiled, recalling her conversation with Kukutux. She moved to join the man, murmuring when she was in earshot, "It won't be as thrilling as a pig-hunt, but it needs to be done." She quirked a brow, wondering if he would recall the hunt she referenced. She then nodded toward the sickly-seeming creature.

A familiar voice called from the riverside.

Kigipigak saw Lane and grinned, bounding from his spot among the snow-capped shadows to meet her at a vague halfway point. She motioned to the pale caribou.

I almost don't want to. He murmured lowly.

It looks like it is made of snow! Katiktuktu. The sound of his voice making these sounds did alert the caribou, who raised its head meekly and turned its ear, trying to follow its instinct; but it did not run, and lethargically descended to the river's surface again.

I am glad to find you. If you see it too, then I am not seeing spirits! He laughed softly (for Kigipigak, which still wasn't softly), chuffing while he watched the creature.

"I almost don't want to," he returned, and Lane tilted her head in curiosity. Some of her own pack had also shied from these diseased creatures. Lane herself could see them as nothing more than a direct threat to the livelihood of her pack and therefore her children, and she meant to eliminate that threat, swiftly and decisively. 

His next words offered some explanation as he noted the creature's coloration. Kigipigik was also a creature who could have been carved from ice; did he feel some kinship with the hoofed beast? 

His laughter rumbled deep in his chest, and Lane felt the joy in her own heart rise in response. "The first time I saw you, I thought you were a spirit," she admitted, also laughing. She swung her gaze over her shoulder, setting her honey eyes on the Frostfire Ridge. That was where they had first met, and where, she believed, Kigipigik had saved her life.  

Turning back to Kigipigik, she noted, "The flaw in its bloodline that is responsible for its complexion, also makes it susceptible to disease." Albinism was not likely to be associated with robust, thriving creatures. If the hoofed beast was not infected with the wasting disease yet, it probably would be soon. Lane's demeanor sobered as she set her mind to what must be done.

The first time they had met, the snow was so thick that they could not see one-another. The memory of it had almost entirely faded for Kigipigak; he had not seen Lane well at the time and barely heard her calling during the storm, and yet they had found safety because of one-another.

It does look weak, Kigipigak agreed. Lane watched the creature a moment longer before speaking of its blood, and the disease. It was a sickness that had affected much of the herd and would make for easy hunting to the wolves.

It is weak and so it should be culled, he voiced with some authority, remembering the lesson from his childhood. Let us hunt it, Apiruk! Being cheeky now, calling her snow-covered as an homage to their first meeting, and grinning to her.

We will bring its meat to your village, and I will ask Kukutux if the white hide can be preserved. Then when you see it, you can think of our first storm!

"It is weak and so it should be culled," Kigipigak asserted, giving voice to the way that Lane had also been taught. 

"This is known," Lane agreed, following his statement with the traditional words that she had been taught as a child. This was they way of the wolf, and it was good and righteous. 

Lane nodded, smiling at the title he used for her despite having zero idea of its translation. It was probably some token of respect, she supposed. She made a note to ask one of the northerners, when she returned the to Glacier's borders. 

"Our first, and hopefully our last!" Lane laughed, rousing to his high-spirited demeanor. His attitude was as contagious as any prion disease. She would look forward to seeing the final result, when Kukutux was finished preserving the hide. 

Now to business. 

"We should descend the hill over there..." Lane suggested, gesturing with her paw. Her scout trade may have been secondary to her medic trade, but she still knew this land very well. "..Rather than here. The snow conceals boulders on this side of the hill." Other than that, the hunt should be a straightforward one. The hoofed beast was unlikely to put up much of a fight.

Kigipigak did not realize how fortunate he was to have Lane here, at least until she spoke of the terrain. She would know it better than himself — but beyond that, she was a tactician and a hunter of equal measure to himself. Her skills with scouting aided her in such regard. Kigipigak had a similar mindset when he became a ranger in his own right - they were very similar.

He nods and begins to move in to position. The thought of falling in the river is behind him now; he imagines how perilous the angle of attack had been prior to this adjustment, and how close he had come to dashing himself to death on hidden rocks.

If we can drive it towards the water, maybe it will try to swim. It looks too weak to run far, so the cold of this river might be enough to do great damage to it. That would also preserve the hide, Kigipigak thought, and looked to Apiruk as they both neared the next hill.

Kigipigak's searching gaze found Lane's eyes, and she nodded. "I like it." Drowning the deer was not the most thrilling method of dispatching the caribou, but it was likely the safest. If all went according to plan, Kigipigak's pelt would not collect another scar on this day. 

She turned her gaze to a bend in the river. "The river turns to shallows around that bend. If your plan succeeds, we will be able to wade in and easily retrieve your prize." She turned back to Kigipigak with a triumphant smile. It felt good, getting to put her ranger's knowledge to use. 

"I'll follow your lead," Lane offered as they reached the hill's summit. Her eyes would trail after him. She enjoyed watching him at his art, and her gaze may have lingered on his chiseled form a beat too long. She would hurry after him, supporting the Moonglow hunter's bid to drive the caribou into the river's icy grip.

Kigipigak was given the go-ahead, and so he moved.

The river wound through the earth to the southeast of the glacier village, but as it went it carried the frigid melt of the ice there, feeding the hillside where lupines grew. Even with the snow scattered among the trees Kigipigak could see them. There were animal trails throughout them from the caribou, which had come and trampled during their escape from the path of the wolves.

All but this pale creature.

He followed it, keeping to the hillside, and came to the shallows that Lane described. He looked to her and motioned for her to go one direction while he moved closer to the water's edge, then began to move in pursuit of the caribou. The white thing was unaffected by the presence of the wolves; it did not seem to be aware.

Kigipigak closed in, hugging the edge of the river, and so Lane swung wide, meaning to cut the creature off if it attempted an escape.

It did no such thing. It seemed to hardly even register the presence of the predators. 

Lane bared her teeth and gave a ferocious snarl. The sickly beast halted, and it swung its head in her direction, fixing her with its clouded, lifeless eyes. After a long moment, it finally attempted to move once more, shifting its weight from one hoof to another. It appeared to be walking in place in slow motion, completely unaware that it made no forward progress. 

Lane met Kigipigak's gaze uncertainly. There could be no doubt now that the creature suffered with Zombie Deer Disease, as Lane had named it. ...What would they do if the beast could not be herded? If it was too far gone to even be driven a few more steps into the river? Was Kigipigak prepared to end its suffering the old-fashioned way?

He went along the riverside and straight for the caribou, while Lane moved in an arc. They came to the same conclusion as they intercepted the creature: it did not want to move, and did not try to defend itself even as Kigipigak sought to score it.

The white wolf was swift to attack the caribou's haunch, and then move on to the shoulder, the belly, anything that might cause a reaction. The caribou had to have felt the puncture of teeth; it did not react as quickly as Kigipigak expected though, and left him feeling unfulfilled.

It moved away from him with a staggering gait, falling more towards the river because of the uneven terrain. Its haunches bled from where Kigipigak had struck it, and it swung its head towards Lane with tired eyes, just as it tumbled.

Following Kigipigik's lead, Lane darted forward to also begin letting blood. Guarded, she pulled back after each bite, ready to protect herself from retaliatory blows that never came. Eventually the caribou did swing its crown toward her in a half-hearted pass as it fell, but this was anticipated and easily skirted. 

It crashed into the river as if in slow motion, displacing a wave of water that lapped up onto the riverbank and splashed the hunters. Lane let loose a startled bark as her face met with the freezing spray. Despite the chill of the water, the caribou hardly struggled. Collapsed on its side in the shallows, its pale nose hovered over the surface of the water as the animal fought to hold up its head. 

It was just a matter of time now. Lane looked to Kigipigak. He had crimson stains splashed across his alabaster chest, and the sharp contrast in colors drew Lane's eye.

Kigipigak could not move fast enough to aid Lane, but she needed nobody and nothing in that moment. As the caribou crashed in to the water she moved deftly to one side, being splashed, while Kigipigak felt a spray of chilling drops as he moved also. The bulk of the water had pummeled against the woman — and she'd erupted with a sound of displeasure that made Kigipigak want to laugh.

He did not laugh. He did not have the time to; the caribou thrashed in the water and looked pitiful where it had collapsed. It was enough to drive Kigipigak's hunting instinct in to a frenzy. He saw the weakness within the creature and drove himself in to the water, seeking its neck with his teeth, ripping at the skin of its face and its throat wherever he could.

The water foamed with red until there was only stillness, at which point there was a new darkness seeping in to the otherwise clear meltwater, as the caribou's blood painted everything a sickly purple-red.

Kigipigak entered the water swiftly and set to ending the creature's pain, which filled Lane with relief. The caribou fought still, craning its face and neck away from the northerner's assault, but its life was rapidly spilling out into the flowing river. Soon it stilled, and it's red-rimmed eyes and nose slipped beneath the current. 

Lane waded out to Kigipigik, nodding her thanks. She would not have relished the chore of watching the creature drown. 

The deep hue of the creature's welling blood had stained its ghostly fur a pale, pinkish color. "Oh! The skin.." Lane uttered regretfully. Was it ruined, or would the stain come out? Perhaps if they let the cold water continue to flow over it, it could be salvaged. 

"I took much more joy in the pig hunt," Lane recalled, eyes fixed on the carcass. The pig had fought bravely and fiercely, and there was honor in that. It was dead all the same, but its life was celebrated in that it had been fought for.

The water ran red, as did Kigipigak's coat. He did not like the feeling of intense warmth against him when the rest of him was sopping and cold, so he drew himself from the water and on to the land where Lane waited.

He was breathless. The red of spilled blood tarnished the rest of him pink and had worked to darken his scarred body, giving him the look of something mightily damaged, as if he had just escaped death all over again.

He tried not to think about it.

The pig hunt, he murmured between breaths, was much more fun than this. Which was the truth; they had worked up a good sweat during their fight with that boar, while here it was more of a mercy killing, which Kigipigak did not find fulfilling. His pulse still raced, he still hungered for something.

His eyes lit upon Lane while she worried over the downed caribou's pale coat. For a moment he had forgotten about it, but then sighed, and moved back in to the water to grab at the body and begin hoisting it free.

They would need to do some swift butchery of this thing if he was to bring the hide to Kukutux.

Kigipigak agreed, and Lane detected something heavy shifting behind his countenance. Something new. Was it just frustration, or was something darker woven into the seams? Kukutux's words came back to her: "he was alone and his heart was empty."  At the time, Lane couldn't imagine any words more divergent of her impression of Kigipigak. The man she new was vibrant and full of joy for life. His lively energy and booming voice filled the surrounding air and quickened the heart. He was magnetic. How could he ever find himself alone or empty, for even a second? 

And yet, there was a wanting there that Lane could sense. He heaved the caribou from the shallows with a deftness that surprised Lane, but when she moved to join him she realized that the carcass was not as heavy as it looked. In fact, the heaviest part about it was the water logged in the matted fur. The wasting sickness had eaten away much of the flesh that should have hugged its ribcage. 

When the carcass was settled upon the bank, Lane looked up at Kigipigak with a strange emotion moving behind her eyes. "I looked for you. At the Plateau. I was so..." She paused, and her brow furrowed. "..I'm glad our paths have crossed again," she said instead, abandoning her first thought unfinished.

Lane set to removing the hide, beginning her work around the delicate sections of the face and neck. Her smaller muzzle would be more deft with these parts that required the most precision.

Kigipigak was breathing hard by the time the caribou lay at rest upon the bank. He was dripping and cold, but put aside the discomfort of those things to focus on the work. That was when Lane spoke up — engaging in a walk down memory lane that distracted Kigipigak for a moment.

He had tried not to think about the plateau. Those thoughts always brought to mind Sakhmet, and then loss, and all of that was too frustrating to think about. It was something he couldn't change.

—I'm glad our paths have crossed again.

The man's expression was sombre, and the feeling resonated within his copper gaze while he smiled to her and said, I am glad also. But before he got in to any discussion, he set his sights upon the pale corpse.

Like the caribou he had brought down with the stray hunter (Tuuluuwaq) days ago, Kigipigak got to work stripping the finer cuts of meat from the belly, and disarticulating the limbs. It was much easier with this pale thing by virtue of his illness: it was underweight and it skin sagged off of it, or tucked in to neat rows along the ribs. It was tedious only for Kigipigak's lack of skill, and the desire to keep the skin intact for Kukutux to work with.

Working helped him to clear his mind. Kigipigak knew it was pointless to pine after someone who he likely wouldn't see again. It hurt to confront this truth, but he had to do it. He'd slowly been accepting this of Sakhmet for weeks now. It was all Kigipigak could do: mourn what was missing, and move on.

Processing the kill took longer than it should have probably, given the inexperience of both hunters with the tasks involved. While Lane could get by for the chase-and-kill part of hunting with just some base-level skills and a lot of instinct, the processing of the meat and hide was a more complex operation. This had not been a responsibility of hers growing up, as an apprentice healer. It would be likewise for Kigipigak, if the village of his birth was anything like the one Kukutux led: the processing of furs and meats was work typically completed in the women's circles, not the men's. 

As a ranger, Lane was far more used to eating what she wanted from a kill and then moving on. Stripping the carcass of meat for portability purposes was new for her. She followed Kigipigak's lead, doing her best to emulate him and produce similarly thick strips of flesh. When their tasks were complete and the boon of the hunt was fully prepared for transport, Lane would assist Kigipigak in carrying their dividends back to camp to be stored. 

She would very much look forward to admiring the ivory pelt when Kukutux was finished with it; not only would it remind her of that blizzard-day when her path first crossed with Kigipigak's, but it would also remind her of this day that they had been reunited. The pelt even had the same sheen as the moon on the night they hunted pigs, come to think of it... 

wrote a fade for us, feel free to reply or just archive. <3