Seaside Moors And I did a lot wrong I can't make right

Aningan was hunting when a voice reached out over the land, carrying with it a request for Tundra, then Erzulie. That the voice was not a familiar one left him skeptical, curious to find who might be seeking an audience with them. Pausing mid-step, he raised his head whilst his ears swiveled this way and that to better pick up on the direction of origin. Once he was confident he knew, the Inuk turned on his heels and took off in the direction opposite to the one he was previously travelling in; his hunt could wait.

Moving further and further from the territory’s heart, the bear was soon maneuvering through the outskirts. It was there he found the owner of the voice, a mottled mess of mats and blood; he could smell the copper in the air even before he saw it, although old and fading. Stiffening with his approach, the young leader stopped several paces off before calling out to the other: “Who are you? What happened to you?” What do you want with Tundra and Erzulie? he wanted to add but abstained—for now, that is.