Ouroboros Spine Under the bludgeonings of chance

They marched together in silence. When Tonravik paused to inspect something, so did Salamander - almost like a child following the lead of a parent, eagerly drinking in the experience. Except that she was no child, and she was not interested in such knowledge. Tonravik passed the chunk of fur and blood, but Salamander was more interested in it. For a moment she only sat there, breathing in the airy musk of the hairs; then, sliding her head against the tree, the dried blood was collected across the side of her head. A dark mark remained where the blood had been partially smeared, but for the most part the mixture now decorated Salamander. She said nothing, still, relishing the silence while Tonravik moved ahead - and then followed with eager steps.

The woman did not go far. Salamander came upon her quite suddenly, not expecting her to stop at the top of the hill, and felt her ire rise again; but Tonravik spoke, and her attention seemed to be glued to something far afield. "What do you see, Aupârtok?"

Salamander's eyes gleamed as soon as she spotted the herd, but she said nothing. They were a pair of strong young wolves, powerful beings, so their choice in target mattered little to the red woman. She would likely go berserk regardless - but the prospect of another chase, another chance to make something bleed, bolstered her spirit. She gave a sullen shrug, but said nothing in return - missing the injured creature - and continued to stare like a hungry crocodile at the distant targets.