Hushed Willows [m] high on the hill where the foxhorns blow

Kukutux. A midwife, if he had to guess. The continued thought brings a sinking, toiling feeling to his gut, this fear — he pushes it from his mind again.
You gotta put your scent places where other folks can smell it, his cheek brushes the side of an old conifer's trunk. anything that says 'hey, I live here,' y'know? Roll around, rub against trees n' bushes... pee on 'em. his voice quiets rather bashfully. Pheromones.
Hey, you see that, uh, that l'il pond out there? Over by the trees? he crouches beside her and gestures eastward with a tilt of his nose. We'll start over there.