Sun Mote Copse some people are just born to fight, i think

the child — meerkat, he reminds himself — is very chatty ...at least to savaktuk's standards. she mentions that her mother is a fighter, her father a hunter and someone named neema is both. true to form, savaktuk makes a noncommittal noise, a low grunt, as his way of contributing to the conversation. at the very least, he uses this simple and primal way of communication to assure the child that he is paying attention to what she's telling him even if he doesn't contribute anything vocally.

he does not know where meerkat is leading him, isn't sure that she really knows either, but he dutifully trails a few paces behind, keeping a keen eye on her and the dwelling shadows of the unfamiliar terrain. he doesn't trust anyone enough to think that there aren't loners lurking nearby. though meerkat wasn't exactly defenseless — her teeth could do plenty of damage if her life was threatened — he watches wearily all the same.

no one intercepts them thus far but the assurance is not enough to coax savaktuk to let his guard down ( if it was ever really down ). she outpaces him in her eagerness and with a small snort of disapproval he is about to chide her when she shouts for him and his pace hurries to eliminate the distance. there is the sound of roaring water, baffling to the tartok who ever knew the slow and steady trickle of streams and icemelt. though meerkat had not sounded distressed when he catches up to her, his magma gaze fiercely studies their surroundings all the same, only to follow her line of sight.

the roaring sound was water, as it rushed down the cliffside, spilling in a constant stream of frothy water below. he peers over the side for a moment before a small smile tugs at his lips as he looks back to meerkat. waterfall. he supplies helpfully, having heard of them but not having ever seen one himself.