Wapun Meadow The water temple.

His attention was temporarily lost to the ephemeral quality of his current view, so he did not notice the heavy foot-falls quieted by the fog, nor the shape of the much larger wolf until they had perched themselves along the river's edge and bellowed with their deep voice. The sound came from one of the more obscure sections of the river, where it was calm and where the fog could sit undisturbed. Tulimaq turned his head at the sound, somewhat taken by surprise, but that shock didn't register for long upon his face. He saw the silhouette of a dark shape among the sublimated water and with some study, could make out the face of the stranger, which he approached carefully.

The fact he had not heard the stranger approach was unnerving; but Tulimaq assumed that the fog was the culprit, which was mostly right. Certainly the more he investigated the stranger the more he learned, and it seemed as if this broad mountain of a man was also much older. He likely had some stealth training, or knew to use the fog to his advantage. This wolf was, most assuredly, not a wolf of Tartok. Such bulk was impressive but Tulimaq did not know of any kinfolk that could rival this man. He was imposing whether that was his intention or not; the way he held himself reminded Tulimaq strongly of the various issumatar he had grown up with.

His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, not masking his obvious state of discovery. All he could smell was the light scent of the fog, with the creek's sharpness beneath it. Salutitsinik. Tulimaq drawls, curious if this massive creature would recognize the language or be put-off by it. A test.