Can't go back now

The thrill of the hunt was over. They had an older, but still impressive elk to drag home and help fill the caches. He lingered over the animal and lifted his ears, searching for sound of other wolves or scavengers that might try their chances as their meal. He found none presently, but he wasn't taking any unnecessary risks. They'd failed a few hunts recently as a pack. This kill was very much needed.

The wolf introduced himself. Iqniq nodded. He didn't seem super happy about his own name, but it didn't matter. Inside of the Spire he would have a new name his packmates would come to know him by. "Let's call you Savik, then," he said. The word was Inuit for "hunting fang" (aka: wolfified version of "hunting knife"). He did well on the field. No doubt he would continue to prove himself a valuable asset.

"It was your hunt. Eat up. Then let's drag this thing back home, shall we?" The wolf was welcome to eat first. His hunt. His kill. As far as Iqniq was concerned, his right to eat first. He wasn't so picky with these things when it came to one-on-one scenarios. In front of the rest of the pack? Yeah. Rank mattered a heck of a lot more. Out here and with another pack member? For him, less so. "Welcome to Sawtooth Spire."