Qeya River Simmik

They seemed to have come at a time when the land here was warming, and warming fast. In the North, and in Siberia, the land creaked towards warmth, like he did in the morning while Lazuli tried to rouse him. Even here, in this land that looked so much like the tundras they were born in, it felt so different. He wondered if this was enough for the coming northern pack, if the familiarity of sight rather than feeling would be enough to confirm their settlement. He humpfed, trotting forward ahead of his sister towards an icy river, thirsty. But a wolfen shape drew him away from thirst, the familiar, slender outline of a woman — a Arctic woman. His tongue lolled, now with some kind of familiar lust. He looked back at his sister, who shot him a withering glance at his mischevious eyes, but shrugged. 

He ran forward, then slowed into a sneak ats he neared her, seeing the concentration that took hold of her face. He smirked as he tiptoed closer and closer before the dark Russian pounced, pushing the woman into the cold waters. Suna Sajuppilâk, Mannitotik?