Silvertip Mountain What a curious Case

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Nanook felt stronger each passing day. Every morning filled her anew. Her lungs carried her further and her legs took her higher. Though she remained an angular thing, sprightly and thin, she no longer felt sickly and gaunt. And while she had yet to gather the nerve to den with the others, Silvertip felt more and more like home with every setting of the sun.

Yet one perplexity remained, one that Nanook, in all her thinking, had not managed to solve. Against her nature and her good judgment, it was Valette she sought that morning. She knew the other yearling to be a hunter, and so the forest seemed the logical place to look. Sure enough, a howl met Nanook as she approached - an invitation to hunt, from the enigma herself.

Her first desire was to run, and run she did - toward the howl, and not away. Curiosity surged within her, morbid though it felt, to solve the riddle of her sister's spectre. She picked her way through rocks and trunks until Valette's scent swelled ever present around her. The draping shadows nearly obscured the dark girl from Nanook's sight, but she caught the slight movement of life, and Nanook came to rest some paces away.

She did not voice her presence, for she placed herself upwind, where the breeze would brush her scent toward Valette and not carry it away, as she was in the habit of doing. Nanook was certain the other needed no more alert than that. Valette was a hunter, after all, and even Nanook understood the power of a scent.