Kintla Flatlands But Death Had Caught You in a Bad Mood

The stranger's paw came up and clipped him in the belly. Kigipigak could not place himself any closer with the way his front limbs were blocking him on either side and with his weight displaced. Soon enough the yellow of the boy's coat was ground in to the dust and his soft belly furs were exposed. If Kigipigak had wanted to end him he could have done so with ease, strewn the innards like garlands across the rise to pay homage to his people.

Instead he watched for the tuck of that tail and with a final snap of his teeth over the fawnboy's head, he withdrew. It would do no good to press the matter further. The boy was on his back in a weak position that served up layers of submission. Kigipigak felt his confidence soar in his triumph.

He let out a low rumble to issue the end of the fight—as well as warn Daighre against further retaliation— and then heaved himself off of the other wolf. His tail was raised high, and he strut a few steps.

Know that Kigipigak has bested you! Take my name home to your mother, fawnboy. Have her share in your defeat! Do not feel bad—you fight against Tartok, and we are mighty! He bellowed over his shoulder as he made his departure. We are mighty! The voice grew louder to compensate for the distance. Kigipigak's laughter blustered around the ridge until he was far enough away for silence to reign again.