Snowforest Taiga Anguished.

The stranger spat words at him, not all of them making sense. Kigipigak wasn't very good at reading people but he could understand the tone of words, and he was especially bothered by the use of a foreign tongue; he had not adopted the language of his superiors upon the mountain and he would not take kindly to this other new, strange tongue. He could tell he was being mocked, at any rate. The fur along his shoulders serrated as it rose up.

When next the wolf commented on Valmua, essentially calling her a bitch fit only to brood and whelp, Kigipigak was stunned. He wasn't offended—it wasn't language he was accustomed to but that wasn't the problem—he had never considered Valmua as a motherly type, nor had he thought about the approaching season. It struck him as an odd concept until he remembered the visit by a man from the seaside — Njord — who had been lured close by Valmua's charms.

You are digging? Kigipigak finally noticed the dug-out section of earth. He wondered how long this man had been working at it; how strange, too, that he would put forth such effort when the ground was frozen. The northerner scoffed. That is a job for a woman! Or perhaps a man so full of shit he needs a big hole to hide it. A boom of laughter erupted from Kigipigak at that point. It was muffled by the snow falling, the sound contained to the pair of men and failing to carry far. 

Maybe he should have checked for balls after all.