The Tangle Hands to your hymnals, hell's at the door

The sea worked as an ambrosia to lure him along the knobby cairn until a face appeared before him. Kigipigak wondered if he was imagining things. He blinked and looked back over his shoulder, quickly, and upon facing the stranger again he saw the shadow that she cast and knew not to doubt his eyes. All he could smell from her was the ocean.

He strode towards her and then stopped again, studying her face (or what was left of it). Among the moody maroon-tint of her coat were networks of many scars. Aside from this the woman did not look to him as a warrior might. She was mostly a wire-built creature with a softened paunch, a roundness indicative of motherhood. She reminded him strongly of his own mother in the serious stare she wore.

Not knowing what to say Kigipigak remained silent and still. His head lowered slightly so that it was less of a prideful bearing and more defensive, aligned with his mantled shoulders. He would watch her until ascertaining what her purpose was.