Permafrost Hollows can change you, no

The wolf roamed with as much vigor as a bear having woken up from its hibernation too early. There was no reason for her choice in paths, but her strides remained powerful, purposeful. A few hours ago she had caught the scent of tuktu — elk — but somewhere along the way she'd lost it again. The snow was growing deeper hour to hour as well, which did not hamper her efforts as much as one might expect; wolves were designed for this, after all. Regardless of her natural affinity for the region, the snow was falling more rapidly than a few hours ago and was likely the reason she'd lost her game trail. By the time she thought to stop and gather her bearings, Sitala was far removed from the targeted path and there were a few inches of fresh powder all over the mountainside.

In such conditions it would not be surprising to miss the signs of a claim. Had she not spotted movement within the flurry, she would have continued to impede upon the stranger and his work; however, Sitala did notice. She thought she heard something within the ethereal quiet of the falling snow and sought a route to intercept. As she trailed after the stranger she noticed that segments of snow were ripe with urine (either by smell or by color), and paused at a few patches to gather some information. The stranger that was marking these spots seemed to be in good health — and he was not alone, his scent overlaid others.