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

The other man spilled the doe's blood, which stained the earth and the ice, and perfumed the air in a way that Kilgitsuk found nostalgic; he missed doing this as often as he used to, and vowed in that moment to use his hunting skills more often. When Dutch requested to watch as Kilgitsuk worked, he merel nodded acquiescence.

They would eat and they would work, with Kilgitsuk being patient with his cutting of the hide. He would cut the belly and portion the innards so that they could be stored; peeling at the soft tissue with his teeth, or wedging his digits between the fat and the muscle; it was something that would take time, and during some moments he would ask Dutch to take this, move that — fetch water to clean parts, or take morsels before they spoiled.

What was left after hours together was a well carved, naked carcass. Kilgitsuk was bloodied up to his chest from the work, with red and pink stains across his muzzle and up to his brow. A mask of red which was slowly drying, and gave him a grotesque appearance.

He would need to bathe before presenting anything — but the work was done, and the sun was tilting towards a very early setting. Will you take the rest of the meat to the village? I must soak the pelt — and, hah, myself. Finally a touch of humor entered his voice. Dutch was a good worker, and he appreciated all the help.