Duskfire Glacier you touched me like that

The cur blinked, seaglass eyes gone wide with surprise at the woodlander's generosity. Her gaze fell back to rose-gold paws, her tuliped ears fluttering bashfully as she shook her gilded diadem hastily in gentle refusal. "Nee, nee," the she-dog breathed a burst of songbird laughter, seafoam eyes crinkling with humor. "Imaq hunts. Takes from Siqiqniq's rise in morning to Taqqiq's at night," the shaman explained to Rye, pointing towards the sun with her muzzle for clarification. 

"Rye might want big fur. Warm. For winter," she suggested. A smaller predator would suffice perhaps, the pelt of some vermin they were trying to rid the territory of perhaps. A fox or coyote. Maybe a bobcat if the man was daring. Or if he managed to recruit others to the task, like Imaq herself, the fur of some ungulate would work though these skins were often thinner than the hides of predators.