Moonspear lawmother

simbelmyne was buffeted by the wind; chakliux enjoyed the way their bodies had almost been moved closer, and took it as a fine omen. "it will tear skin from trees and leaves from their branches. but no true hurt, not for a powerful mountain. seal hunters know how to repair a lodge," he boasted, though there was not a true arrogance in it.
"i have not yet hunted seal in moontide." the wind rose again; he dropped his muzzle closer to her ear. "i am waiting for the cold snows to come, the ice. that is when the seals arrive. i will hunt them then."
so close, again he breathed in the pinewood and loam which wound through simbelmyne's coat.
"have you tasted seal fat before?"