Permafrost Hollows kiluktuk

A fox kit hung from between his teeth. Alive.
It was young enough not to be afraid of him; smaller than it should have been, and lethargic.

He held it around its plump middle. Some ways aft the snow was streaked with red, and tufts of orange-gold fur lay scattered among the heaps of snow like saffron. The mother had been desperate to keep him away and had inevitably failed.

With a final clench of his jaws, Tulimaq sank his teeth in to the kit and shook. The meat could not be salvaged for much gain and the pelts, should anyone have desired them at any point, were past any point of beauty or usefulness.

He tossed the tiny thing in to the pile with its siblings soon enough.