Moonsong Glacier there's a giant cross on the i40 did you guys know it's huge

The hunt was as swift and painless as anyone could have hoped for, save perhaps the doe herself. Dutch whispered a little prayer for her as she died, and then lifted a bright-eyed look to Kilgitsuk, about to offer first dibs. He was pleased to have it offered to him instead, and so repressed the urge to tease: Age before beauty!

"The pelt," he said instead, though of course he had heard of this before. His own aunt wore the skin of a coyote in the colder months. Her southern blood was stronger than his own, and her own pelt too thin to keep her quite as warm as she would've liked. Perhaps their smallness contributed to their tendency to get cold?

He was was careful with the kill, opening the throat to let out the blood before looking back to Kilgitsuk.

"Will you show me how?" he asked, having never seen the act of preserving a pelt. A doeskin did not seem terribly useful to him for providing warmth, but the ways of this people were strange! There was plenty still to learn. "Perhaps our next hunt can be for mountain goat," he added, gazing up at the peak once more. "You can bring her something thicker for the winter."