Boartusk Heights Tenderfoot

Tulimaq reacts to the chunk of ice in the manner of a groggy bear woken from its hibernation; he's slow and cumbersome, reaching for the sheet of ice again and gouging it with his fangs as he pulls it free from the water. It slides out of the way and then he releases it, letting it tumble against the creek edge where it splits in half. The water freely pours from beneath the ice and the segment of the creek he is perched beside picks up speed.

He notices the wolf next. Just beyond the glimmering of the water's icy surface comes a narrow shape, and he glances at it - noticing the dappled gold of the stranger's coat, the sharpness to their slender figure, and his hackles lift presumptuously. Tulimaq has not claimed the mountain outright but he feels a certain connection to it. His more feral roots have begun to show, and as he studies the stranger from across the flowing creek his dull gaze locks upon their bright one with a silent challenge — or a warning, take your pick.