Blackfoot Forest Iktsuarpok

The lithe little creature heads for the trees and Mesa is hot on its little heels, caught up for a moment by the struggle of the wolf upon which it is perched, and giving them a disdainful look as if to say, what are you doing, help me! But as he extricates himself from the tangle of their struggling bodies and lunges for the trunk of a tree, he spies the sinuous little form of the prey animal as it coils in a frenzy higher than he can reach. His heart is racing and his eyes are wide, hungry — he lifts himself up on his hinds and paws at the trunk, trying to reach higher, but knows he's lost this little spasm of a hunt.

Mesa's breath is gushing from him as he relents from the attack; aligning himself with the dirt again, he flashes a dangerous, primal look upon the stranger — faltering only slightly when they mention his mother.

Takiyok's, Stigmata's. He corrects her immediately, his voice lancing at her. He opens his mouth to say something else (perhaps to ask why is there prey around your neck, or why haven't you eaten it yet?) when the full realization clicks in his head and the tension slips from his shoulders. There was.. There was an accident. The herd, I... I ran, all the oomph left him there as he admitted to his weakness, his cowardice. The stupidity of venturing away from the group during the catastrophe and leading to the death of Kazimir, whose name he could not speak aloud. You -- you are with the pack? He has probably seen her around before but his recent trauma has emptied his mind of such moments.