Frogspawn Swamp run, run, run

Anuniaq's paws itched to give chase to the herd they tracked. They had been hunting them for weeks now — always there, always watching. Wherever the beasts moved, so too did the band of wolves. The boy frequently tried to creep close to the herd, keeping low to the ground so as not to startle them, but near enough that he would catch the attention of Silaluk who would then quite literally drag him away.

A rather deep nip she had landed upon his rear from a day before had him stick closer to their group now, trying to appeal to his aunt whenever he could. When she paused, so did he, following closely along as she tracked a scent of something long dead. The swamp — or, at least, what had once been a swamp — had claimed a victim.

Anuniaq's nose twitched as he studied the half-submerged calf, glancing once to Silaluk to gauge her reaction. She seemed unsure. The boy, however, full of adolescent foolishness, stepped onto the icy banks of the frozen lake with a wave of his tail. It made dull, threatening sounds as he did so but held fast. So, he continued on carefully, one paw in front of the other towards the promise of food (however frozen it may be).