Qeya River kinnaktuk

The man held some words for his son, and a warning suspended in the air for Tulukiri which she balked at; but she listened, more-so because she could not rend her ears from her head in time to stop the sounds. Some aspects of Kigipigak's training were things she did not appreciate (such as the constant brow-beating over her pride) but she'd learned to live with it while abroad.

He dispersed, much to Tulukiri's disdain; however her focus was now upon the boy and his answer. It sounded typical of the son of a hunter, and less involved than she would have liked. If this really was Kigipigak's son, should he not have the drive to fight? Would he not have been born among those of Tartok and made to train, as she did, from the start? Evidently not.

Everyone can hunt, she states flatly. If you couldn't you'd starve. That isn't exactly a major skill. As if the potential starvation of the boy's family weren't a motivator or anything. Tulukiri did not know the history of this village nor did she care to learn it.

Right, well. Guess I have my work cut out for me then. She let her eyes wander over him. Her assessment was limited but she gave no clear indication of what she thought as she observed him. You wanna show me what you can do?

The medic had warned her against moving too much, or irritating the dried poultice that caked her neck and shoulder. Tulukiri did not think that Kivaluk would threaten her recovery time in any way and did not think about her wounds.

Lets play pretend - maybe that's more your style. A cheeky smile appears upon her face as she says this, and she ducks in to a defensive play-bow. Ah! I am the great villain Taggakgiit come to eat your dinner and pee on your things!