Blacktail Deer Plateau tammaktuk

‘Sakhmet!’ A voice had called, from somewhere beyond the trees. Deep and melodious, in the way all howls were.

‘Sakhmet!’ He wanted to yell back.

Even if he didn’t know what it meant. Even if he didn’t know if it was a call, a name, or a place. If it was a welcome, or a warning. If it was something good, or something bad.

But—

He hoped it was something good. That it wasn’t something bad. And that if it was bad, he could help. That it could be solved, and that it could be fixed.

And so, he walked.

Higher and higher, until the earth no longer rose and instead plateaued. From where another call of, ‘Sakhmet!’ echoed.

“Who’s Sakhmet?” He asked, when he saw him—standing, tall and broad and white in the clearing—his own jaws parted and pink tongue pressing forward to lick once at his lips. He stood. Submissive. Both of his front paws together in the grass, pressed close side by side, and his head low, cocked to the side. Birdlike. Owlish, with big, wide, unblinking yellow eyes that didn’t quite meet his and forward-perked ears.

Behind him, his tail wagged. Slow, and even.

Innocently.

Harmlessly.

Curiously.