Wapun Meadow The water temple.

He had not been in the valley that long so it was surprising to hear the stranger's inquiry, mentioning questions—questions, about what, he wondered? The massive wolf drifted in to the river, becoming an obstacle for the water. Tulimaq watched as the fog rolled from him; he sincerely thought that this could be some kind of manifestation for about thirty seconds, before sense kicked in. He might've been large and in charge, but that didn't make him a god as far as Tulimaq knew. Tartok did not adhere to any doctrine aside from the typical survival of the fittest mentality. No, not a god. Just a giant that he didn't want to screw with, even with his belief that challenges were good for one's soul.

Questions about what? Tulimaq inquires, his tone level and words only slightly affected by an accent. It is clear by the way the stranger reacted to his previous greeting that he was not a northern beast, so he resorted to using the dialect of the wilds. Tulimaq is wary; he makes sure that the stranger knows this with the stiff manner of his strides, but he holds no fear either—he watches the stranger with as much fire in his gaze as he might hold facing a bear, or any such opponent. He is a warrior after all.