Larksong Grotto Sangilak

The man was crafty! He bent beneath Kigipigak's might but did not break. His teeth came to grip at the pale man's ankle and score the flesh there. A lesser man might have given in to the sudden pain of it — but that was not Kigipigak!

Having survived the onslaught of a giant cat in the past, now the feeling of the teeth against his ankle was startling, but also something he could endure. He had been through worse; what was one ankle-biter to him now? Soon his foot was streaked with blood and as he continued to leverage against Njord's strong back, Kigipigak felt himself slip against the snow by a fraction.

With a rumble in his belly Kigipigak lifted up, releasing some of the pressure placed across Njord, and slammed down again, intent on bruising, or worrying at the skin that was held between his own teeth. He could be patient and he could wield his body as it was meant to be used: as a great ram, to flatten this man and hold him contemptuously against the ice.