Though she spoke with such temerity, Aupaluktok felt little strength within herself. There was an obvious shift within the feral beast, as if her presence alone was enough to set him off. He growled ceaselessly, but did not advance upon her; the fortitude with which the stranger enforced these foreign laws was stronger now, more direct. Aupa's worry increased. She took a step in reverse, and then another, hoping that the increase in proximity would lessen the wild thing's anger. If all amarok were like this, then Man had a good reason to be fearful.
And she, with wholehearted resistance to the ways of Man, shaken as she was in the empty hollow where her faith had resided, hoped to be free of this strange creature soon.
He spoke quickly to her - the raucous timbre of his voice catching more of her attention than the words themselves - and Aupaluktok flinched back another step when he boasted a clear threat, Now lower your head, and tuck that tail, or you won't have one to tuck."
And she was ready to obey. Experiencing these vital lessons would one day save her life, she knew this, somehow. But more important than the desire to follow and comply was her lust to escape, to flee and survive.
She did not bow, or tuck her tail. The tip of the bushy appendage twitched as if eager to do so, but Aupaluktok would keep her wits about her - refusing the demand by this stranger. There was distance between them now. Distance, as well as the thick fog of fear to fuel her. What are you, anyways?
the stranger queried, catching her off-guard for just a moment. What was she? A curious question from the prehistoric beast.
I am nothing.
she caught herself muttering in response, the strength which she displayed physically did not translate in to her words. With a distracted look beyond him, the dog's attention slipped to the grass and the distant ocean - and then she took a step towards it, hoping to be quick enough to avoid his teeth.