Hushed Willows mama, please—let me back inside

The pale woman goes down, though soon rises again and takes off. Tupkuk might have gone after it, were it not the others still coming for her flesh. But they are tiring, and Tupkuk is tiring of them. She has had her blood—moreso than she even expected—and she is ready for a meal, for respite.

The mountains are calling to her.

With one mighty blow, she knocks back the burly, loud-mouthed female, and then charges away through the willows, crushing saplings in her wake. The dens are forgotten. All she craves, now, are the mountains, and the taste of sweet alpine salmon from the streams there.

She leaves chaos behind.