The Bracken Woods Weep for yourself, my man

The regret that he felt towards having entered the forest wove down deep within his chest, settling, too, into the distal regions of his body; every fiber of his being became pure regret, though the dramatics of it all went right over his head. He repeatedly told himself how he should have turned around immediately, but it was too late now to actually do so—he’d made this much progress thus far, he might as well persevere through the rest of his prickly situation and hope like hell he was close to breaking through the treeline. The only silver lining he could see to it all was that he’d managed avoid the pricks from the underbrush, being stopped now only by the occasional tugging of his pelt; although it was often the loose fur that snagged and was removed, a patch of attached fur got caught here and there. Thankfully, it was only uncomfortable, at worst.

With a break in his near future, Arrluk slowed—doing so made maneuvering easier, which was equally pleasant and frustrating—but did not yet stop. A rustling in the canopy spread out before him caught the male’s attention, ears swiveling forward to listen closely to the sound, but his gaze did not lift from the forest’s floor. It was easy to assume that the noise was made either by squirrels or some birds, and neither of them were a particularly large threat to him. Proceeding with said assumption in mind, it came as quite the shock when a wolf dropped down several yards in front of him.

Immediately, his hackles raised and his legs forced him to take several steps backwards. “Suna ikumatsuak?!” exclaimed the Inuk, slipping into his mother tongue. Was he seeing things? Surely, a wolf had not just fallen from the branches overhead. Skeptical, he peered up, searching for anything that might suggest there were more of them—but he found nothing, and so his attention snapped back to the scarred male. “Kinau—” he cut himself off, doubting the stranger’s ability to understand; he’d been warned prior to leaving that their language was not as common beyond the northernmost settlements. “Who are you?” He had a noticeable Inuit lilt, pronunciations rough.

Even as he stared the other male down, gaze nearly unblinking, the tension in his muscles did not ease up. The male had not only descended from a tree, but he’d done so without a single word to spare—what could his intentions be?