Swiftcurrent Creek The roaring seas and many a dark range of mountains lie between us.

A brief tip of his muzzle in acknowledgement to his name—eyes studying the broad features of the wolf before him. He spoke of a village—the term something he believed to be cultural, perhaps—but only if his assumption of the man’s heritage was correct.

Before he could question, Kilgitsuk brought up the elephant in the creek: the group of wolves that had attacked them within their first week or so of settling. A wry smirk pressed to his muzzle, though it did not fully meet his eyes. “We were attacked by a group of three wolves. Later, another came to claim one of their injured ones, a young girl… So we know there’s at least four of them.” He paused, shoulders rolling back in a shrug. “Or there were four of them—if they lived past their injuries.”

He paused then, gaze slipping past his companion and to the direction of their borders. “We need to send a scout out to ensure they aren’t in a nearby area. The one I had in mind has come in to heat though.” Sending Jakoul now would be like feeding her to the wolves… Literally.