Heron Lake Plateau The Dirge of Cerberus

Sikuaq's pace quickened, eager to be shed of his loneliness when at last his sister's voice seemed to rise from the bedrock of the plateau. It was a reassuring sound, great and beckoning, touching his thoughts deeply and reminding him of the tide. In all its power. In all its bracing glory.

He was panting when they saw one another, warm air billowing around his long muzzle like volcanic fumes. His entire backside began to wag, paying little mind to her trailing companions as he began to hurdle over mounds of snow to reach her. He ducked his head and slowed only enough to keep from bowling into her, an ecstatic whine peeling from between his slick canines as he expressed his want for her lost affection.

Their relationship had never been a tenuous one; Silaluk had shown, as early as she could, her desire to be in control, and Sikuaq had never once thought to try and best her. He lived for her, more than he lived for himself, and when she had left Tartok, giving him a chance to become something on his own, he had chosen instead to follow— albeit belatedly. Even leaving his own "battle-buddy" behind.

He was taller, but a consistent hunch had leveled him with her, and he certainly did not carry his sister's heft. He turned his side to her, presenting the black sovereign with the scents of the three packs he had crossed in Tuktu; the trails he had tediously dragged himself along, so that he might have something useful to offer Silaluk upon greeting her.