Alpine Lake Orksingolerpok

She had heard him, though had not called back to him. Ikkalrok was close, now—and she bridged the gap between them, though did not hide her approach from him. No doubt he knew her lumber as she knew his; strangers might think them bear cubs, from their prowling gait. They were no less dangerous, and best avoided. Her ferocity was rivaled only by the tireless motherbear, who would stop at nothing to protect. 

Ikkalrok paused at the entrance of the cave, considering as she gazed at his hindquarters. They had trained in situations such as this. What were they to do, if they were cornered and alone, with nowhere else to go, and the enemy came upon them (and they had fit within the cave)? When by ones lonesome, it was found that the desire to kill might have petered with the more prevalent desire to survive. But one must always expect the enemy to have been trained as they were; to kill was to ensure their survival, brutal as it was, because even to let one live was to bring about the chance for eventual retaliation. Ikkalrok had seen it, heard of it. Many had faced it. Some had died. 

Those that had ever been soft, or thought themselves so, became hard; Tartok was like the kînaut that brought forth from their rounded foundations the sharp kinark they might possess. Not all among them were born stalwart and cold; but they became. All among them, who bore the name, became. Their bond grew stronger for it; together, united, and knowing, they would survive. 

She wondered if he could hear outside as well as he could within, what with the drumming waters she could hear here that was surely louder thanks to the acoustics the cavern might bring. With this thought in mind, Ikkalrok moved to incapacitate him as she lurched for a vulnerable hind leg, always one to test her theories rather than stand in inaction.